Harry Potter and the Leap of Faith
by PetrogradAN
Summary: Winter 1996. Harry Potter, alone, on the highest balcony of the highest tower of Hogwarts. A single leap can change destiny, he knows this better than anyone else. One leap is all that it would take – a Leap of Faith.
1. The Bass Drop of Hogwarts

_Chapter 1: The Bass Drop of Hogwarts_

* * *

He had to do it now. The trip to the Burrow took place _today_. If he went along with the rest... then he wouldn't be able to do it again. He stood on top of the balcony over-looking the vast expanses of the Forbidden Forest and the lake that housed the giant squid; glittering as if a thousand, sparkling diamonds were spread out over its surface, scattering about the first rays of morning light.

A soft wind caressed his forehead and pressed down onto his rounded glasses making them dig into his nose to clearly see the long, long drop down to the grounds below. The only thing that obstructed his own fall was a small stone railing that barely grasped his waist; its crumbling, dusted remains sticking to his fingers in soot patches that drew across his pale skin.

It would be so effortless. So simple to just put one leg over the other and finally fly without a broom out into the morning sky. He would be able to see his mother and father, Cedric, Sirius...

He gave a sigh. Why _wasn't_ he jumping? One would think that he would imagine the sadness of his friends and those that he practically considered family if he were to die... but that just wasn't right. He knew in his heart that it wasn't the sorrow that was stopping him in this moment of indecision. He cared for Ron and Hermione dearly but he would do what must be done. This was his choice – his _alone_.

If not friends and family, then maybe love? But that couldn't be it either. Cho... it just wasn't meant to be. If he had feelings for her before then they had vanished in the wake of her betrayal. Ginny on the other hand... who was he kidding here? It would be a miracle for anything to happen on that front.

The dementor's shawl of enlightenment closing in around his heart washed away his stupor. He must hesitate because of Voldemort, who should by all accounts be one of the reasons why he needed to put one shoe over the other and fling himself out of one of Hogwarts' tallest towers.

A common barrow owl spread its wings in the distance, the only source of movement in the otherwise tranquil morning. He could be free. No responsibilities, no more fights to the death, no prophecies, no Chosen One, no more having to witness those close to him murdered in cold blood. He took a hold of the plain stone railing and lifted his right foot.

How many would follow him to his death?

He stopped cold. If he gave up now; many others, unquestionably including the Weasleys, would face torture and death. Magical Britain would be ruled by a tyrannical Dark Lord that would kill muggles by the thousands and cause untold pain and suffering. But of course a school-boy was the only one that was needed to stop the blood-thirsty psychopath. Screw them.

He lifted himself up and had both of his feet planted on the narrow stone railings. He swayed slightly in the wind. One strong gust of air and that would be the end of the-boy-who-lived. He wondered if many people had jumped out of Hogwarts towers in the past – If he would be unique in his death or just one among many. As his stare set upon the first smoke escaping the chimney of Hagrid's Hut, he realised that he wasn't sure which statement he would prefer more.

He just stood there, feeling the unending pressure barrelling into his form but his body didn't budge an inch. Why was this so hard? Why couldn't he just jump? Was he scared?

He spread his arms out, welcoming the silent applause of fallen Death Eaters and others who had long desired his death. He closed his eyes to the everlasting darkness that was always there when he awoke and there when he fell to inciting sleep. He took in his last sharp breath of air. Now slowly, as if he were walking, he lifted his left foot forward...

A gale slammed into him, making him lose his balance and fall. His eyes flew open. He screamed at the sudden movement. The world moved at a snail's pace as he fell through the empty air, hands outstretched, his fingers curling around something to catch onto. Within moments that had seemed an eternity, his back crunched against the stonework of the ancient balcony sending angry pulses all across his torso.

He closed his eyes. Not today, maybe not ever and definitely not by jumping off of Hogwarts' tallest tower on the eve of morning. To think that if he had actually jumped, then the gale would have had him decorating the walls of the tower with every ounce of his blood as he would have undoubtedly crashed into the structure a half-dozen times while flailing to the ground. If only _Bellatrix _could suffer such a fate.

Hogwarts's bell rang seven gongs, heralding the coming of the sun. He would need to smile at Hermione's face, scoff at Ron's pointed looks and pretend that there was nothing going on – that there was nothing wrong with him. It's not as if he had a half-filled letter containing a short message to everybody that he cared about resting in the hem of his robe. He pulled out his wand and had an _Incendio_ on the tip of his tongue when he realised that he didn't have the letter on him. It was gone.

He barrelled off to the Gryffindor dorms as fast as his feet could take him, the worst scenarios already filling up his mind. He would arrive too late – Ron would be slack-jawed, Hermione would cry rivers of tears and by the end of the day everybody would know of his predicament. He could already imagine that not even the Quibbler would be able to top the Daily Prophet's headlines: 'Suicide at Hogwarts!', 'The Boy-Who-Learned-To-Fly' or most melodramatically of all, 'The Fallen One'. Why did he even decide to attempt the bloody thing?

He slowed down as he approached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. He whispered as loudly as he dared to the snoring Fat Lady upon realising that most Gryffindors were still asleep in bed, "Griffin's Roost!"

The Fat Lady yawned and waved her hand before swinging open for him to enter before she was drifting off back to sleep in mid-mutter about annoying early-risers. He hurried past the common room, leaping up to the landing of the sixth year dorms where he took every precaution to quietly enter the room. Ron's snoring drowned out any footsteps that he made and it looked like everybody was still asleep. He quickly tip-toed over to the parchment that lay on his desk.

"What are you doing up so early, 'Arry?" Neville moaned.

By Morgana's… it was too early to swear. How could he forget that Neville was a light sleeper?! It was frankly a miracle that he could sleep with Ron's snores at all, never mind hear anything else.

"Go to sleep Neville. Everything's alright. I just needed to use the loo."

"Oh," and Neville dropped down dead in slumber – a Gryffindor through and through.

Wiping out the imagined sweat that literally couldn't be achieved in this freezing cold weather, his hand extended past the scuffs of the Weasley Jumper that he was wearing and tightly gripped the offending piece of parchment. He pulled it open. There they were… his own words. He crumpled the parchment in his fist. Only when he was sure that he would not gnaw his own skin did he slip the ball into his pocket; lungs bereft of all breath.

The drops of a light drizzle that had gone through the night coating the outsides of the windows in drops of liquid water. His corpse would have been drenched in rainwater to the bone in its mud grave. He covered his face with his hands. He needed to get out of here. He needed to breathe.

The dormitory's candlelight remained far behind in his trek out of the tower, the Fat Lady's dialogue dulled to uselessness the instant it crashed against his ears. Narrowly avoiding Mrs. Norris with the help of the Marauders Map, he had snuck beyond the premise of Hogwarts using the secret passage under the Whomping Willow that left him stranded at the Shrieking Shack where he could let go lay down his guard.

The forlorn window frames lay credence to the freshly drenched glades of grass rippling in September dance to the battering strong winds that took their toll on the decaying sanctuary offered by the Shack. He was not forlorn in being denied a place to sit, to calm his mind for whereas he had never possessed a physical persona, layering the walls in punches was worth the pain that it brought to his wrists a hundred fold.

"Oi! Wotcher Harry! Shouldn't you be at school or something?" Tonks' voice had him jumping out of his skin, "What are you doing up there in the Shrieking Shack? Did Remus not tell you that you mustn't give the wood such a hard time or it might break? Your pounding can be heard all the way from Hogsmeade and there are other things that I would rather wake up to then a teenage boy in his prime! Cat got your tongue Harry? Was I wrong to consider the issue to be with wood and instead you have a girl up there with you, you naughty, naughty boy? Well? Speak up! Don't be shy!"

His mouth hung speechless from his jaw. His brain just couldn't fathom how to get out of _this_. Tonks was fine and all but she would surely bring him to McGonagall if not Dumbledore himself which would definitely not bode well for him. He cursed his own tardiness. Constant Vigilance indeed.

"Why are you not speaking Harry? Is something wrong? Did you get _stuck _up there?" Tonks inquired before she unveiled her wand, "Alright, I'm coming in! Tell your lady-friend to cover herself up!"

Mortifying horror did not begin to cover his emotional state when Nymphadora Tonks _Alohomora_'d the front door and stepped into the Shack. He would forever claim that it was the Gryffindor in him that had him leaping out of the second story with no regard for his own life. Most likely he just wanted to finally off himself but running away from a pursuing metamorphmagus was a good excuse as any.

He landed with a thud feet first before he was pulled down onto all fours into the dirt. With the ground swirling around him, he picked himself up and ran for all that he was worth. He could distinctly hear an, "Oi!" reverberating from the Shrieking Shack but he didn't turn around to check in his flight for freedom. The Forbidden Forest didn't exactly sound lovely this time of year. In fact, he would wager that the Forbidden Forest _never _sounded lovely at absolutely _any_ time of the year so his feet carried him onwards towards the only other alternative.

Maintaining his pace throughout the wide open streets of Hogsmede was the right gamble to take up with fate as it proved crucial to him in avoiding far-flung spells from crashing into his back on his way to the nearest outlet maintaining a Floo connection. An _Alohomora _of his own allowed him to burst into the deep-scented delicacy of Honeydukes whose hanging chocolates nearly caused him to halt in his advance as he realised that he had missed last night's dinner. A yelp of 'Diagon Alley!' in conjunction with a fistful of scattered Floo powder that he nabbed from a nearby table-top ushered him away in bright green flame.

For once he arrived normally after travelling by Floo and he couldn't even boast about it for such was the life of the Chosen One. The street was near congested at this time of day, allowing him to easily slip by the tame groups of people ascending or descending down the cobbled pathways. That was when he heard the, 'Oi! Where has that brat gone off to?' of his nightmares.

His heart lifted into his throat. He was already in so much trouble that he couldn't afford to go back to Hogwarts until this entire charade died over but to survive in the open world he would need money to sustain himself. Path predetermined, he legged it towards Gringotts before Tonks could track him down. The engraved doors sporting their thieving riddles folded in to allow him entrance to the bank proper, the distant reflection of pink bubble-gum heading in his direction speeding up his pace.

Tellers in three rows criss-crossed the main hall of marble where goblins weighed jewels and counted Galleons in front of lines that formed up even in the early rays of sunlight. Amid the ordered chaos that had him twisting on his heel to find an open booth, the shining allure of blond hair that dangled in mesmerizing locks drew him into an ambushing smile that left him torn asunder. His heart raged in drumming beats resting atop his shoulder, bare for all to see. Whatever he had hoped to find at Gringotts, it was certainly not the lithe form of Fleur Delacour.

"'Arry? It 'as been too long! What are you doing 'ere so eearly? Are you not supposed to be at 'Ogwarts?"

"Holiday," was the first thing that popped into his smitten mind. "Listen Fleur I need help. There is an auror coming by the name of Tonks looking for me. Can you hide me until she leaves?"

It seemed that she sensed the urgency in his voice because she guided him to an opening in the row of counters where he squeezed through to come face to face with Fleur herself. The primeval allure that he felt when standing so near to her was indescribable for it made him feel like a fish in water or the tree that willowed in the breeze. Alas there was no time to vent out such emotion since a flash of pink had him ducking beneath the cover of the barrier, heart permanently stuck within the confines of his throat.

"Where could that miscreant be?" Footsteps collided with the marble and came to rest just outside of the booth that Fleur was manning. "Watcher!"

He could not see anything above Fleur's legs but he could imagine that she was still smiling, "Good morning auror Tonks. How may Gringotts 'elp you today?"

"Huh, I thought only goblins manned the desks?"

Fleur seemed to shrug, "Finishing off my night shift mam. Eeven ze poor critters need zeir sleep. So what will it be, transfers or wizdrawals? An eexchange perhaps?"

Tonks drummed on the desk with her fingers, popping chewing gum indiscriminately. "I am looking for Harry Potter. You seen him by any chance?"

Fleur stood straight but her left foot fidgeted by the slightest degree. "Non."

Tonks sighed, as if she didn't want to do this, "Well then it seems we have a problem Miss..." she seemed to peer at Fleur's name-tag, "...Delacour because passer-byes have seen him entering this establishment. I am asking for the last time: Where is Harry Potter?"

Fleur sank her head and he caught her blue eyes. "I do not know what you are talking about but I 'ave never seen 'Arry Potter in ze London Branch of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. If zat will be all?"

"I will find out the truth about what is going on around here," the terse reply followed in the wake of retreating footsteps.

Tonks' steps blended in to become an undecipherable echo among many such others in the marble hall averting certain disaster. While Fleur treated with various customers in case Tonks came back to check on her work, her right arm discreetly twisted with wand in hand to touch his forehead. He shivered at the egg yolk that slipped down from the top of his head down his clothes to the tips of his toes – the tell-tale signs of a Disillusionment Charm.

The moment that the façade of a teller became unnecessary, Fleur slipped her mink coat back over her shoulders in the staff room before motioning for him to follow her out of the bank through the back exit. Fleur grabbed his hand, running comforting circles over his palm as if sensing his discomfort before disapparating without a warning, him following right along with the eye-squeezing and mind-numbing vortex of apparition hitting him at full blast.

He remembered little of landing on the outside of the apartment in London's busy streets and even less of losing yesterday's lunch in the corridor of the first floor but regardless the issues were resolved quickly and it was not long that he was seated down on a velvet armchair in Fleur's living room, drinking something strong that reminded him heavily of firewhiskey, Fleur lounging back next to him in her cosy apartment along the Thames. If there was one thing to say about Fleur, it was that she was a gracious host.

"So 'Arry," Fleur savoured his name as if he were a fine French wine, "Mind eexplaining why zat 'aughty woman was up in my business zis morning?"

Harry swallowed everything in his glass to help him ring up on the inexhaustible pit of courage that took awfully inconvenient vacation days when it really mattered. "I… I ran away from Hogwarts."

"Why?" Fleur asked, leaning in with eyebrow poised.

He took a stab in the dark. "Because I wanted to see you?"

Fleur's laugh rang with the clarity of a bell atop Notre-Dame, "You are terrible 'Arry! Was ze auror zen chasing you because you stole flowers to give to moi and you lost zem in the chase as well?"

He shook his head. "I would never bring you flowers as I doubt that they would be more beautiful than you."

Fleur gave him a smile that melted the heavens. "What did I say? Absolutely terrible 'Arry. I am an eengaged woman. Boys… all of you zink ze same, act ze same. I guess I shouldn't be surprised. A tiny bit of allure after a drink and voila! You've found your true love. 'Ow convenient."

"It's hard not to when there is a quarter veela around to mess with your head. You really did a number on us this summer at the Burrow you know?"

"I am so sorry zat I 'ave been born unnaturally stunning. I will not do so again I promise," Fleur mocked him, chugging away at her own third drink while he was still on his second, "But zere are downsides to zis as well you know. Women 'ave been badmouthing moi behind ze back my whole life. Phlegm is not ze worst that I 'ave been called by far."

He ran a hand through his messy hair. "I'm sure that the girls didn't mean it."

"Oh please 'Arry, save it. I know eexactly what zose vixens meant and when I've been so good to Bill as well! Sometimes I don't understand where all of zis is 'eading. If me and Bill eeven 'ave a future. I love 'im dearly but… 'is _mother_… eenough about the dreary. Zis is yours I believe?"

His defence in lieu of the Weasley matriarch died on the tip of his tongue. There in Fleur's dainty hand lay the crumpled suicide note that must have slipped from his pocket after the apparition. He outstretched his hand to grab it but Fleur handily snatched it out of his reach at the last moment, her eyes locked on his face.

"Why 'as zis got you so angry? You are positively steaming! What is in it?"

He leapt from his armchair to no effect for Fleur had already unravelled the note and when he snatched it from her hands to shred it into a million pieces, he saw that it was too late. He opened his mouth to deny any allegation that would come from her mouth; however, he did not foresee that the ghastly silence that filled the room would be worse than any sort of outburst.

"Is zis… is zis true?" Fleur's voice shook.

His continued reticence on the matter solidified his guilt. Two hands wrapped around his shoulders bringing him down onto the couch in an enveloped embrace. Soft tears swept down his sweater to no protest from his paralysed form. He hadn't meant for this to happen… this was not what he wanted at all.

He spoke up, "Can we forget about this Fleur… please? You don't need to care so much about me, believe me, I'm not worth the tears. Let's just sweep this under the rug and I'll be off."

Fleur's watershed eyes swivelled around to his own, light make-up running down her face leaving black marks all over her cheeks. Her smile had long thawed away in favour of pursed lips embedded in stone. He tried to leave her grasp but she held on him with an iron grip as if as soon as she would let him go he would fade in front of her eyes. Left with no other option, he relented in hesitantly returning back the hug, apprehension clouding his mind.

Fleur pulled him in. "Why?"

"I was weak," the words felt dirty in his mouth, "But that's in the past. Forget about this whole thing Fleur."

Fleur wholeheartedly ignored him. "You saved Gabrielle. She would be devastated if you died 'Arry. Many people would be devastated."

"I know that."

Her mood changed swung, her tone rising, "Zen why did you write zis?! Why go zrough wiz it?! You are smarter zan zis!"

"It would be over so quick…" he muttered into her blond, cascading hair.

Fleur was back to tears as she hit his back, "Don't you dare die 'Arry. Don't you dare!"

"Death comes for us all," he replied in his best Dumbledore impersonation.

"Oh you silly, little boy. It doesn't mean zat you should be ze first to seek out deaz! Zere is still a lot zat life 'as to offer," she scolded him, holding him even closer to her chest.

He met her dark blue eyes, a bit indignant at being called a little boy but realising that this was probably fair considering he had been about to off himself. "I promise that I won't write another letter like that."

"You better," she sighed. "You better or I will resurrect you and kill you myself."

"Believe me I'm more worried about you turning into a full-fledged Verla with flaming fireballs at your tips. I would rather fight the Hungarian Horntail than stand against a quarter avian that possessed the elements of claws and flame," he shuddered.

He imagined Madame Delacour watching as a child Fleur turned into a fiery creature of hazard, setting the mall aflame during a massive temper tantrum caused by the refusal of her parents to purchase a stuffed animal. He grinned. If he ever met Fleur's relatives, he would need to ask them for this amazing bl– erm... educational material.

"What are you grinning about? Do you 'ave any plans at all aside from running away on ze 'olidays?" The subject of his thoughts asked him still clutching onto him without realising that leaping out of towers was kind of on the back-burner of his mind right now.

"I have no idea. Probably go back to Hogwarts –"

"You want moi to let you go back to an eempty castle so zat you can commit... zis!" she vaguely pointed at the crumpled letter. "While I am not looking?"

"No Fleur, I have already tried and –"

"You _what_?!"

He tried to calm her down, emphasis on the try. "I decided to jump from the tallest tower but there was this strong gale that pushed me back and –"

"– so ze only reason zat you are alive is because of a _wind_!" Fleur howled, signalling the return of the infamous iron grip that squeezed the life out of him in a manoeuvre reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley.

He should have just kept his mouth closed. No way was she letting him off the hook now.

"Non! You shall never do zis again! Promise me 'Arry. Never again!"

Logically he should have just nodded and said 'Yes' but he hesitated. He didn't like being ordered around and it was his life...

"'Arry! Don't you dare!" Fleur began sobbing even harder.

He tried to untangle himself from her inviting arms. He broke free from her grasp but looking over her, a part of Harry's heart died. Fleur was a mess. Her jumper was crumpled, her make-up ruined, her hands bruised and to top it all off she was still sobbing her heart out with her shoulders slumped downwards. He couldn't just leave her. He wouldn't be able to live with himself and wasn't that ironic?

He grabbed Fleur's body by the waist to heave her to the toilet where he opened the tap water to help her gently wash off the black stains adoring her face. Or well he at least tried to be gentle – it didn't stop some of the tap water from drenching her jumper, mixing in with the make-up that already coated the fabric. Going out on a whim that he blamed on his drink, he took off his jumper. His brave act of self-sacrifice caused Fleur to stop crying. When he began taking off her jumper as well, she began laughing instead.

"'Arry! I'm eengaged!"

He gave her a wink. "Bill doesn't need to know."

She continued laughing but didn't stop him from completely taking off her soaked-through jumper. An exchange later found Fleur comfortably sitting in his own maroon Weasley exotica, a proud 'H' displaying across her chest while Fleur's own jumper rested in the basket. Fleur softly swayed from side to side, dragging him back into the living room onto the couch where he found himself closer to her then he had ever been before with the world shifting on its axis like the deck of a ship in open waters.

"'Arry?" Fleur turned to him, a serious expression on her bedazzled face. "Never do zat again."

"Never again," he promised, not moving his eyes away from hers.

The unusual shifts coming from the fireplace startled them both. Swift as a sweeping stallion, Fleur's wisp-like wand flew from her pocket to bring him into disillusionment in the nick of time. The embers of the fireplace rasped out in cough as twigs moved themselves together to form the face of Bilius Weasley.

"Fleur!" Bill's voice rang throughout the apartment. "Honey why did you leave so suddenly without telling me? You had me worried sick."

Fleur raised herself from the couch to kneel down by the fireplace. "Sorry mon amour but I was feeling so unwell zat I simply 'ad to get away. I guess I might 'ave the pox."

"Well don't worry yourself then darling. I will be right along after the shift and we can take some days off until you recover."

Fleur bit her lip before throwing a guilty glance in his direction. "I would love to Bill but moi maman called zis morning. She wants me to visit 'er and you know 'ow she is."

"Alright sweetheart just be safe and remember that if you start to feel worse than we could always call on a mediwizard for treatment. Do you think that you will be long?"

Fleur hesitated. "A week at most."

Bill's tone dropped in obvious disappointment. "Pity that we won't spend Christmas together but do try to get back by New Years at the least or mother will have both of our hides. On the other hand it is probably for the best that you will be away. She seems to be in it for the long haul in suffocating us in a dozen layers of jumpers! I guess I will see you soon?"

Fleur sent a kiss. "I will be back before you eeven know it."

The cinders from the emerald flames did not have the chance to die down when clumps of clothes burst across the room, piling up neatly into a luggage case sitting snuggly by the doorway. Fleur grabbed him by the arm to drag him out into the corridor, locking the door behind her with a flick of her wand.

He stumbled over his own shoes in the hurry. "What's going on?"

"You are on vacation are you not? Consider zis its start," Fleur said, their forms warping down long-winded tight tunnels before being spit out into snow-addled streets that lay in-between a line of baroque housing, "Welcome 'Arry. Welcome to France!"

**_Next Up: Les Vacances en France_**


	2. Les Vacances en France

_Chapter 2: Les Vacances en France_

* * *

The crystalline matrices that blew up the snow crunched beneath their footsteps in their climb to the doorstep of the Delacour's Parisian abode. The fence, magically charged as it was, had no qualms in letting them past the layering wards through a gate that lacked the inclusion of something as rudimentary as a keyhole. Contrary to this, the front door presented a greater challenge that with its orange hues surrounding the golden four imbedded in its upper portion, separated his world from the one that lay in ambush just over the last scraggly doorstep.

His steps slowed, Fleur coming down to a stop as well. "Somezing wrong 'Arry?"

"Nothing," he stammered out, "Are you sure that we won't be intruding?"

"Nonsense! Of course we will not be intruding in my own 'ome! Now let's get in before ze white frost eeats away at your sneakers."

He let her glide him through the meticulously preserved lawn radiating magical qualities in the flower petals that glowed from the tips of their forms. The front door loomed ever closer, seeming to overshadow his figure like the posture of a giant lion overarching over the body of a young mouse. He was positively cawed to silence as Fleur's knuckles produced sharp raps against the frame. They didn't have to wait long for the disgruntled voices to convert into the fall of footsteps that swung open the door to comically wide eyes.

"Fleur? _'Arry?!_" Gabrielle squealed from the front step adorned in a simple gown that flashed out of sight so quickly that he could have sworn that Fleur's little sister had accidentally disapparated back to her upstairs bedroom.

"Don't worry about 'er. She just gets a little overexcited," Fleur chuckled to the jingle of the homely bells that accompanied their entrance into the household proper.

He paid no mind to the chiming coming from the kitchen until he realised that they were being greeted in French when Fleur replied back in kind. The lenient form of Apolline Delacour leaned from around the corner of the kitchen, embracing the form of her daughter before spamming him with French phrases, only stopping when she noticed the distressed looks that he was sending in Fleur's direction.

"Zis is 'Arry Potter maman, surly you remember 'im? 'E is ze Eenglish boy that saved Gabrielle from ze lake," Fleur said in English more for his benefit than for her mothers.

"Oui Fleur, I would never dare forget 'Arry Potters pretty face. You were such a small zing back zen dear, my 'ow you 'ave grown. Would you like a cookie?"

Fleur made a face. "Maman! Don't eembarrass me!"

"Who is eembarrassing whom 'ere?" Apolline raised an eyebrow. "The mozer who is offering ze guest refreshments or ze poor eexcuse of a daughter who 'adn't eeven floo'd ahead to tell 'er dear maman zat she was not only coming but stringing the-boy-who-lived along wizout eeven allowing me to get ready!"

"It's alright Madame Delacour, you look lovely," he dashed through his reassurance.

Apolline ruffled through his hair, "Zank you for ze compliment darling but zat is still not an eexcuse. So Fleur, what 'as decided to make you zink of your poor, old maman? Not looking for galleons to purchase truck-loads of shoes again I 'ope?"

"Non maman, you know 'ow I 'ave a well-paying job now at Gringotts."

Apolline's disbelieving hum left no doubts about what she thought of Fleur's statement. "So why are you 'ere near Christmas time Fleur wiz 'Arry no less when you told moi eexplicitly that you would be spending it at ze Weasley's zis year?"

He spotted the tell-tale signs of Fleur silently gulping. "We are 'ere for a few days maman. 'Ogwarts term eended so 'Arry is on 'is winter 'ole 'olidays. 'E was swinging by Gringotts to get some gold for presents when I was covering for a friend. We got to talking when I found out zat 'Arry 'as never left Eengland in 'is life because of ze constant danger zat 'e is in so when 'e asked me about Gabrielle I offered to show 'im around France so 'ere we are maman."

"'E was asking after Gabrielle?" He sent a sharp glance at Fleur's backside as Apolline cooed, "Of course it makes sense for 'Arry to stay wiz us a while. Why I daresay zat Gabrielle 'as something of a –"

"Maman!" came Gabrielle's scream as she bustled down the stairs in a hurry, Apolline's face breaking into a grin worthy of the Grinch.

"Zere you are sweet Gabrielle, come down to greet our guest! I 'ope zat you remember 'Arry because 'e will be staying wiz us for ze time being. Well what are you looking at moi for? Use your manners young lady."

Gabrielle gave a small courtesy, physically restraining herself from hiding behind her mother's legs, "'Ello 'Arry."

"Hey Gaby." He threw her a smile that seemed to root her to the floor.

Fleur hit him on the shoulder. "Eenough pleasantries or Gabrielle is going to eend up wiz 'er 'eart beating out of 'er chest. Maman I'm sorry zat we came by unannounced. Is zere perhaps a way in which we can 'elp out?"

Mrs. Delacour put her hands around her dainty waist. "'Mm... well I suppose zat you could make yourselves useful. I've been meaning to 'ead down to ze marché for ze past week to get ze foie gras since zere tends to be a shortage around ze holidays but I've only just recovered from a most 'orrible case of ze flu so I wasn't able to go myself and your father is on 'is business trip to ze Americas although 'e 'as promised to be back by Christmas. If you were to fetch it for moi I would be most zankful."

"Alright maman, we will do zis for you. We will try not to take long."

"I'll come along!" Gaby spurted out.

"Non Gabrielle you are still too leetle. Your tiny legs won't go fast eenough to suit ze mission." Fleur shuffled down to give the tomato-red Gabrielle a patronizing pat on the cheeks.

"Now Fleur is zat any way to speak to your leetle sister? Take 'er along with you and take ze whole day if you must, goodness knows it will save moi far more of my time preparing ze feast with 'er out of ze 'ouse rather zan in it. What are you standing around for? Shoo ze lot of you and get moi my foie gras!" Apolline Delacour yelled at their retreating forms after having successfully herded them away from the house with him not getting in a word edgewise about potential, maybe even essential, kompromat.

Needless to say that it had not even taken the sisters half-way down the street to have over half-a-dozen snaring snatches of sibling spitefulness in topics ranging from swimsuits to fire-breathing chickens all having started from Fleur's snide reminder to Gabrielle to 'behave' herself. The subject turned with the street to instead focus on Fleurs adventures in Britain on which she didn't tag Gabrielle along and other such trivialities targeting every facet of Fleur's life leaving the latter nary a chance to defend herself. The chatter wars finally ended when their sight was driven with the caffeine-addicted eyes of a writer to an outlandish café that everybody on the street seemed to be ignoring despite the obvious teacups free-floating in the frame.

"– whenever you 'ave chores you just make up some excuse to leave moi to do all ze work!" Gabrielle pouted.

Fleur turned to her little sister, her breasts sprouting out from a top that was a size too small for her. "Grow up Gabrielle. I 'ave already done my part and now it is your turn. Now do you remember 'ow to get into ze marché?"

"Of course I can remember how to do zings zat my _older_ sister cannot do." Gabrielle batted her eyelashes at him to demonstrate her superiority before skipping off without missing a beat to ring the outside bell that unlocked the door for them with a 'beep'.

At the sight of foreign faces, Gabby lost her bravado, preferring to hang onto his arm with a vice-like grip that he had not expected. His scar got a few stirs but no more than their frequent use of English. It was as if the patrons seemed to dismiss the fact that the sight of 'Arry Potter wasn't a by-product of their drink. Trying to keep his face from showing the brief onset of pain that Gabby's hanging arms were responsible for, he turned to an amused Fleur.

"How do we enter the alley?"

"Ze marché 'Arry, it is not an alley. I know perfectly well where it is but I would like to see my fair, _bold _sister lead us to it zrough zis crowd of _scary_ strangers."

Gabrielle let go of his arm as if it were a scalding hot iron, fierce determination set in her eyes in response to the ordained challenge. Her strides were purposeful in their intent to drag them along to the maintenance closet of the establishment where a few taps of the mop on the adorning Great War posters saw the walls of the closet folding in upon themselves to reveal the midst of a market square filled with the haggling voices of traders exuding from various different stalls that were set upon en masse in preparation for the holidays.

The trip turned out to be quite the success when they managed to snag the last two pounds of foie gras from a big-bellied butcher who chatted jovially to Fleur in French the topic of which she later revealed to be in regards to her family as Monsieur Gérard had known Fleur since she had been a little girl herself. The main task complete, they did not hurry back to return to the abode of the Delacours as he got a tour of every shop and stall, however tiny, across the entire marché.

They visited Madame Jeannine in her flower parlour where Gabrielle's pleading eyes convinced him to purchase her a wreath to wear atop her hair that seemed to attract the fae fairies to come out of the bushes to participate in a solo wiggle under the gentle glow of the warm afternoon sun. Not a second had passed after Fleur averted her gaze that Gabby was not already dragging him by the heel into Danielle's Embroidery to haul on her toys and clothes aplenty. It took an hour for Fleur to reach her last straw but regardless when they set out back towards the familiar street, Gabrielle uttered not a single word of complaint under her crown of flowers expounding on the colours of her new dress, content in consuming an absurd lollipop that changed its colour every time that one took a good look at it.

His mind would have been questioning his overly generous behaviour if it hadn't been otherwise occupied by the looming shadows that seemed to trail them whenever he went. Twice now did he spot a slender flicker of darkness move from the corner of his eye only to halt whenever he flicked his head to check it out. The number of shadows grew until by the time that they had reached the doorstep, there must have been at least three trailing their tail. He had a bad feeling about this.

He waited until Gabby skipped ahead before divulging out his worry. "Fleur don't turn around but we are being followed."

Fleur did not miss a beat in her step but her eyes got noticeably sharper. "Ze bad kind?"

He sighed, "It's always the bad kind."

Whatever their intentions, the shadows did not make any sudden moves and did not try to force their way past the wards or even the length of the street to be on the same side that they were on. Instead they seemed to be content with laying in the encroaching darkness, devious plots filtering in their minds no doubt. The front door, which had previously been left ajar, was now locked and bolted behind a layer of new wards. Apolline's shine was much subdued in the wake of trailing trouble with only a naive Gabby left to meander the halls in happy trills and balloon-bursting smiles. Vacation his ass. He was always a wanted charge.

As the afternoon gave way to an evening filled with the warring factions of Fief and the occasional nervous glance thrown outside the curtailed windows, so too did the evening give way to panoramical starlight that was forged impervious by the warding hammer of the candle-lit estate. Unsatisfied with Fleur's victory over being elected the Queen of France with the entire clergy in her back pocket, wry Gabrielle grabbed him by the hand and brought him outside to the garden, not forgetting to stick out the customary tongue at a Fleur that had been dragged into preparing dinner.

This was how he had found himself reading the Fountain of Fair Fortune to a yawning Gabby that seemed content to lie against his side with her head resting on the nape of his neck while their bodies swung to and fro on the swing bench to the petaled glow that filled up the night-time lawn in a sea of silver mist. The bioluminescent radiance that bequeathed the lawn it ethereal beauty parted to make way for the queen of the castle to pass in-between the rank and file.

Apolline's face peaked out from among the mist, "Dinner's ready."

"Not now maman." Gabrielle showed her first hint of movement in shooing away her own mother from her nestling place.

"No need to get angsty with me young lady! Your portions will be waiting on the dining table so make sure to come in before they get cold. I will leave you two lovebirds alone."

"Maman!" A flicker of warmth sent sweat droplets sliding down his neck.

Apolline ignored her daughter. "I trust you to be a perfect gentlemen Harry."

"Of course Mrs. Delacour," he replied.

"MAMAN!" Gabrielle screamed, becoming unbearably scalding to the touch.

"Alright, alright, I'm going." Madame Delacour raised her hands in surrender before entering back into the house, the folds in the windows closing sharply under the intense scrutiny the young quarter-veela.

It took until the last cover to close for Gabby to finally relax back onto his sunburned shoulder that sent sore shivers down his spine whenever he flexed it. Noticing his discomfort, Gabby quickly realized the problem and blushed a bright scarlet.

"Sorry about zat 'Arry. Maman loves to eembarrass moi at eevery opportunity because she gets lonely wiz moi away at school and Fleur spending 'er time in Eengland. It was strange to see 'er come back with no warning along wiz you. Why are you 'ere in France instead of wiz your friends for ze 'olidays?"

He faked a tear trickling down his face. "I thought you were my friend?"

Gabrielle yelped in naïve distress, "Don't cry! I am your friend. You just don't come to visit moi so often."

"You never visit me princess yet you are more than happy to waste my money on fae wreathes and new dresses."

"They were gifts…" Gabby's rosy cheeks darkened considerably after she said those words while her thumbs twiddled across the hem of her summer dress lying not thirty feet from layers of patching snow.

He beamed as he messed with her hair, all pretences gone now that the discussion of why he was here was averted. "Relax, I'm just messing with you; afterall, I'm a sucker for 'leetle' French princesses."

"_I am not leetle_," Gabrielle fumed with her arms crossed to further demonstrate his point.

"You are 'leetle'. A very 'leetle' beautiful princess that's as pretty as these flowers and don't let anybody tell you otherwise," he susurrated, running a hand over the top of the petal heads that reflected the moon in the midst of twinkling stars.

Gabrielle lifted her head from his shoulders once more, staring at him with serious yet resigned eyes. "We can't be together 'Arry. Maman would not approve, besides you are too short for moi. I will wait for you to grow taller while in ze meantime, I give you my permission to lead on Fleur so zat you can practice getting together wiz moi in ze future."

His hands automatically came to his chest in an opera performance that the ghosts of Hogwarts would surely have approved of, "Oh you have struck a dagger in my heart Gabrielle, rejecting my love for you so callously! The issue standing between our forbidden love for one another is indeed our _height _difference but your pretentious nature cannot ask me to defile the pure maiden that is your sister. Surely taking her away from the arms of her beau would be a crime most grievous!"

"Stop speaking funny and get back to reading," Gabrielle grumbled, leaning back against his form.

"Aye fair maiden. It will be done!" He quietly chuckled the rest of the way through the book, keeping up the Shakespearean accent to drive Gabrielle up the literal wall.

It was only after a yawning Gabrielle had been sent off to bed and he was left to stew on his own under the cover of the night that he realised that he probably would have enjoyed having a sibling or two if he had been afforded the luxury of having a common life. This illusion was shattered with every flicker of cloud passing by the moon that had him leaping out of bed to guard the windowsill, reminding him that no dream of his could ever become reality.

Achieving any form of sleep had proven to be a torturous affair. Even when the vigil that he had sustained forced his eyelids to drop shut from exhaustion, they still flickered open not soon after to the screams of his parents mid-murder, to Sirius's body falling through the veil, to the sickly green curse that had brought so much misery into his life.

Madame Delacour got the shock of her life when she discovered his dishevelled skeleton sipping coffee in the kitchen besides the first rays of sunlight. A sleeping spell later had his brows unwrinkled in sleep for the first time in a long while. When he awoke on the living room couch, it was to the sounds of excitement as Gabrielle, dressed in overalls with hair parted in two silvery-blonde braids, danced around the room.

"Wake up 'Arry! Wake up 'Arry! We are going on a trip!" Gabrielle pranced in a zig zag, her every step a beat on the drums tearing off his ears.

"'Arry dear, do you zink zat you will be strong eenough to use ze floo or would you rather lie-in today?" Apolline asked him hesitantly, no doubt the days earlier incident in mind.

"'E 'as to go." Gabrielle's steel tone left to no room for debate.

"Its alright Mrs. Delacour. Gabby is right. I will be fine enough after my head stops ringing. So where are we of to?" He stood up, only now noticing the form of Fleur hurrying about the house on some errand or another.

"We are going to ze Feast of St. Nicholas which is set to occur for ze next couple of days leading up to Christmas. It opened on ze nineteenth but today will be ze premier of ze Beauxbatons school choir and many of Gabrielle's year mates will be zere to participate in ze festivities. I daresay zat she wishes to introduce you to zem."

Gabby made no sound of denial, a brief smile flitting past her lips. He got the feeling that Gabrielle would not be content until every person in all of France, whether magical or not, knew that 'Arry Potter was a taken teen in all but name.

"How will we be getting there?" he asked.

Fleur entered the room, tossing what seemed to be the last item on her list into her enchanted handbag before answering him, "Due to ze… recent circumstances, zere are now anti-apparition wards up at such large gatherings. Ze only way to access zem, aside from arriving on foot, is to travel zrough ze floo where eeverybody can be specially vetted without any 'assle. We 'ave been assured zat zis is perfectly safe and we 'ave 'ad no troubles with it in ze past. Come along 'Arry, you do know 'ow ze floo works don't you?"

"I know how to trip over my own feet if that is what you mean."

"Zen maybe Gabrielle can give you some tips considering zat she seems to be glued to you by ze hip. Come along zen maman, we need to get going if we do not want to be late."

Madame Delacour confirmed Fleur's words as he witnessed the Delacours vanish one after the other in green flame to the Allée Centrale. Coached on the French pronunciation earlier by Gabby, he confidently stepped into the flames after throwing in the floo powder and called out the name, disappearing in a flash of smoke to be flung across multiple layers of the world that moved as if a film of what must have been the living rooms of half of Paris before he was deposited onto the ground to cough his lungs out.

It was quiet. Too quiet. The merciless incantation of a spell had his reflexes jumping out of the way just in time to avoid the red sparks of a stunner from leaving him out cold. An entire hail of spell fire crashed into the floor at his feet where he managed to scramble off to flee from his assailants. He did not care where his feet took him in the disorientating darkness as long as it was as far away from wherever here was as they could manage.

He burst through a doorway into an array of blinding light that bedazzled his senses causing his form to start fighting against the curvature of the walls to keep going along the length of the corridor. Hurried footsteps followed on his heels but he dared not stop to breathe until he had no more life left inside him. The corridor up ahead contained moving figures that were holding up their wands in his direction. Taking a decision best left not for those faint of heart, he charged straight into the line of fire using short bursts of movement to dodge from the colour trails at the last moment, a gamble that proved to be only useful because the casters were so inexperienced in casting offensive magic.

He burled over the side of a woman, grabbing her wand and using it to send the two middle-aged men beside her into a crumbled mess against the wall. He hobbled out of the way of incoming spells trying to hit him in the back, one-time _Protegos_ being used to keep him from being decimated beneath his other three assailers. He ducked into an elevator that had stopped to deposit an elderly gentlemen on the floor, casting a stunner when the old man jumped to attention at the words being thrown by the running group of his pursuers. His body hit the wall in short, strangled gasps as he watched the panicked faces of his would-be captors sink out of his vision as the elevator made its way down to the ground floor.

He tried not to make a scene when he finally pushed through the crowds waiting around for the elevator but he could not help but stumble in shock through the dozens of witches and wizards that seemed to be going around their daily business. For all intents and purposes, this did not seem to be the lair of Voldemort. So where was he?

Archaic signs sent him past a centralized hall where animated animals in paintings began to walk out of their frames and a particular white peacock even smashed her tail in his nose making him sneeze quite suddenly as if on reflex. Lights and sounds blurred into one. He yelped in pain as his hands automatically moved to his burning scar. Hot, white _dazzling _pain spread out from there and thundered across his entire forehead as somebody screamed. A man in a dark cloak. A vile monster that lived in his shadow, tracing his every move. The Dark Lord was screaming his ass off and he himself was falling down under.

It all became clear to him when he reached what seemed to be an atrium where a giant statue of the world resembled much a similar statue that could be found back on friendlier shores, its inscriptions changing from across the pond to the unpronounceable: Le Ministère de la Magie. The words did not need a translation. He was in the French Ministry of Magic. He was in the _French Ministry of Magic_. What in Merlin's name was he doing in the _French Ministry of Magic?!_

The confusion brought about by the first shred of recognition of his being was to behis downfall. He saw the spell only too late. It seemed someone had recognized him from the crowd of people milling about the atrium and took their chance.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

He could do nothing in the millisecond that he had spotted the sickly sick spell before it collided with his chest. The world seemed to grow still… then like a dam undergoing a violent _Bombarda_, all hell broke loose.

**_Next Up: Shit gets Sirius_**


	3. Shit gets Sirius

_Chapter 3: Shit gets Sirius_

* * *

He awoke while being levitated along narrow, glaring corridors with the vigour of a frenzied Quidditch team to whom the cup was on the line. The levitation charm gave his body the sense of flight as it hovered several feet above the ground, zooming this way and that as they zigzagged past other wards to get to an operating table as he flickered in and out of existence as though a flame sustained on the last decaying firewood.

His scar was causing excruciating sparks of pain to flare up all over his forehead as it forked throughout his lightning bolt scar to fry his nerves to death. Fleur's horrified face streamed in and out of consciousness as the long arduous journey continued on. He wanted to yell, to scream at those around him to end him – he wasn't worth it. The pain… the pain was absolute. He thrashed, tried to claw out his own blood-red eyes before being restrained by one of the numerous mediwizards surrounding him. Voldemort's _Cruciatus_ paled to a papercut in comparison.

He could hear their mutters, could hear their words, could hear their _lies_. He saw the fearful glances they kept giving him as they proclaimed him 'Possessed', 'Insane' and 'Master' as the white-dressed mediwizards were occasionally replaced with kneeling, black-garbed Death Eaters.

He wasn't mad and he wasn't possessed either! The mediwizards had it out for him! They would make him lie next to Lockhart until he would grow crazy to be eventually put in the Longbottom ward to live out the rest of his days as a cucumber! Why couldn't they just let him be? Why were they suffocating him? There was nothing wrong with him! THERE WAS NOTHING WRONG WITH HIM!

He twisted his head, attempting to bite one of the hands that was holding him down with no success. They were getting closer. The doors to the operational ward where just across from them. It was too late. He knew that he should have never trusted that devilish Fleur. As if summoned, her angelic voice rang out amidst the frantic movements, ''Arry!'

He thrashed more frantically than ever, attempting to escape this prison of solitude. His elbow joint collided with the nose of one of his torturers causing them to fall back but the group of healers continued onwards as the doors were pushed open to the interrogation room. Something deep inside of him was screeching in torment, telling to him get far, far away from here. To kill all those that showed up on his path and _flee. Claw, rip, tear... kill._

"_Stupefy!"_

Darkness. Endless Darkness. No sound, no light, no smell, no touch. Darkness all abound the world of the living eyes that shadowed it of the true boundaries of consciousness even when he lay on death's door. Then there was light.

An array of engraved quartz moulded into queer columns of fragmented stone lined with the light of a path a many that stretched out into the endless void. End a neither, nor beginning, the middle torn asunder. A limbless limbo leased without lavish or love. The place where immortals came to die.

He stretched out his pale hand and it reflexively clawed around the sharp edges of a crystalline table standing imposingly over him, casting a shadow that seemed to go on for many leagues and miles. The crisp cool blood seeping from his still grasping, outstretched hand brought him back into reality. Or whatever reality was to an immortal.

Before he could even comprehend his wishes; he was already standing upright, his Hogwarts robes clashing with the sheer endlessness of possibilities and glasses rested on the tip of his nose, their frames oddly comforting. The sharp edges of pain were but a distant memory. His scar exuded no pain at all. It felt as if it was almost...

He turned around. The pillars of quartz were transformed now, red bricks supporting a mirror of gold. He could see his haunted eyes, his bloodied nose, his pale face. His lightning bolt scar... it was gone. His scar was gone.

Somewhere over the course of his observance, the quartz columns moulded to support an exact replica of platform nine and three quarters, down to the very last minute detail, with engraved signs jotting out of arches and the light smell of smoke permeating the air. It was just as he remembered it.

The crystalline table took the form of an ordinary wooden bench. Surprisingly, soft sobs reverberated from underneath it. He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, unclothed child; curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking and it lay shuddering under the seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath.

He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew nearer with caution, ready to jump back at a moment's notice. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"Pitiful, isn't it?"

He turned around to stare at the person that he had never expected to see again ever since he had failed him at the Department of Mysteries not even a year past. "Hey pup, miss me?"

"Sirius!" Within moments, Harry had thrown himself on Sirius, his hands engulfing his supposedly dead godfather in a suffocating embrace.

"Whoa there pup. No need to pull a Molly on me!" Sirius laughed, standing with his shaggy beard and all, looking as if he had lifted himself out of the veil and decided to go for a little walk.

He cracked a grin as the tears slowly started to appear as he gazed at Sirius –a breathing, responding Sirius in the flesh. Words wouldn't escape his lips.

"Come, let us sit and I'll explain everything to you pup."

Harry followed along as Sirius strode away from where the flayed child lay whimpering, leading him to two regal seats, set some distance away under the high, effervescent ceiling. He was tall and handsome, and younger by far than he had ever remembered him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. Sirius sat down on one of the plush chairs and he fell into the other, still staring at Sirius' face; his vivid grey eyes and, his black, shaggy, and mostly unkept hair so similar to his own. Had it really been just half-a-year since he had... died?

"You are dead," he pointed out.

"Oh yes," Sirius replied almost jovially.

"Then... I'm dead too?"

"No, no. Not quite," Sirius assured him while raising a mug of steaming hot tea.

"Sirius... where are we?"

"This, Harry, is limbo. The place between life and death."

This felt strange. Sirius wasn't alive. But he _was_? "What do you mean? Am I… stuck here?"

"Merlin no! You can leave anytime you want to or..." Sirius tapered off into silence.

"Or?" he prompted him.

"Well," Sirius started shifting in his seat, "You can... pass on. See what's behind the veil so to speak. Though I wouldn't personally recommend it."

He looked at Sirius as if he were a newly born baby with a tail. He had been _dreaming _of a moment such as this for as long as he could recall and yet when the moment had actually came about against all odds... he didn't know what to say. He had caused this.

"I am... sorry. I didn't mean to..." He broke down into an incoherent bawl.

"It's all right pup. You weren't to blame. If anything it was my own lack of self-preservation!" Sirius tried to cheer him up.

He was still morbid. "Did it... did it hurt?"

Sirius turned his head sideways, "What? No! Not at all! Quicker and easier than falling asleep!"

"It was... it was bad for me."

"Well bad times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others."

He suddenly snarled out, "I'll kill them! I'll make sure that Bellatrix gets what's coming for her!"

Sirius grabbed his hand. "Harry, the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are."

He looked at the floor. "Yes Sirius. I'll... I'll try."

Sirius' smile must have lit up the entire limbo. "That's great! As long as you try to do what you think is right pup, you can stay true to yourself. At least that's what Prongs used to say when he was alive."

He couldn't help himself but ask, "What does he say now?"

"Mostly stuff about being an idiot, remorse at pranking people that he would share an afterlife with and Lily being a banshee; however, we're getting off topic here Harry. Live a full life, see the world, get a family – settle down and raise a couple of annoying upstarts that will free you from prison one day –"

"Hey!"

Sirius grinned as he avoided the thrown raisin, "– and throw raisins at your dead-self too!"

"No they won't!"

"Yes they will! You're doing it right now!"

"You totally deserved that. For going and offing yourself in that blasted Veil of all things!"

"What's life without a little risk?"

Sirius suffered another raisin attack as a response to his provocative statement. "Says the man who left me orphaned while he went away chasing Pettigrew!"

Sirius' face turned – well, serious. "I thought everything would be alright with you Harry. I was entrusting you into the care of Hagrid and Dumbledore and if it weren't for the slyness of that rat, I would have been with you by the next nightfall."

He ran his hand through his hair. He wouldn't need a knife to cut through the silence; it would be too narrow and small, leaving only small marks where they could talk across. He needed a full-on, blazing chainsaw.

"Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize for what happened all those years ago pup. Those were turbulent times. What happened, happened and –"

Suddenly Sirius stopped. A simpering echo could be heard and they both turned to look at the grieving creature lying underneath the bench that had moved to be right next to them to demand their immediate and undivided attention.

"What is that?"

Sirius gave him a glance, as if judging his reaction. "Voldemort."

He visibly gapped at the creature, "That's Voldemort!"

"Yes. There is something that you must know Harry. In life Voldemort has tried to find a way to stem his greatest fear – death, and thus achieve immortality. This he managed by creating Horcruxes, soul containers which house parts of one's soul outside of the body. Without destroying this container or containers so to speak, the soul would not leave for the afterlife, securing the rest of the soul's immortality."

He stared at him, his mouth wide open, "But... but that means that Voldemort is immortal!"

"On the contrary. The Horcruxes have greatly weakened his soul and if his Horcruxes can be destroyed, he is as destroyable as any other mortal."

"But he... but he could have just charmed some pebble and buried it in the sand or charmed a mountain to be his Horcrux and that would be that!"

"Hmm, I've never thought about charming a mountain to be your Horcrux before. Not a bad idea Harry, not a bad idea at all. Are you sure that you are not a budding dark lord in training?" Sirius ducked from another thrown raisin. "But I digress, that would be impossible. The item charmed cannot be overtly large and it has to be a good conduct of magical energy so as to keep the Horcrux active and not have the soul wither and die away due to natural causes. This is why only objects of relative size and of great power can be charmed to be Horcruxes."

"But he could have sent a magical Horcrux to outer space!"

"Harry don't be ridiculous, that would be too vile a method for Voldemort who bathes in his superiority over mere muggles. And besides, you would be getting too far away from the Earth's source of magic."

"Earth's source of magic?"

"An advanced topic covered in Magical Theory, Harry. In simple terms, it states that all magic is exuded from our cores which are housed inside of us and relay magical signals of intent to the magical core of the world with the signals coming back allowing us to perform actions called magic. Hence getting too far away from the core of the world would weaken and nullify our magical abilities which is why no wizard has ever tried to leave the planet. Of course the reverse is also true which is why those pesky Russians tried to dig that hole that would reach the earth's crust with the American magicians following suite albeit more discretely."

He tried to find a flaw in Sirius's reasoning. "But couldn't he then just create an infinite number of Horcruxes?"

"Well, no. There is only a limited amount of stable magical artefacts that would be able to safely handle a Horcrux and you can only split a soul so many times Harry before you become a pile of goo reduced to slithering on the ground for all eternity."

"So how do we find out where he keeps the Horcruxes? How do we destroy them?" he demanded.

"All in due time Harry, but for now, my own time is running short. You will soon wake up. All that you need to know about that creature," Sirius vaguely gestured to the simpering sob stowed away underneath the bench, "Is that on that fateful Halloween eve, Voldemort had accidently created a Horcrux in your scar."

"My scar?!" his hands instinctually went to where the foreboding lightning bolt had been just this morning.

"Yes your scar. I am not sure what has happened but it seems to us that through death you had somehow managed to get rid of it. That," Sirius again pointed at the shrivelled up, decaying creature in what seemed to be agonising agony, "Is what he will face when he comes down here, as does his Horcrux face it now. A slow, agonizing existence of eternal suffering and regret. A torture that I wouldn't wish even on that rat Pettigrew."

He could feel a tug in his gut, life was calling for him to come back and be engulfed in its warm embrace. "Sirius… will I ever see you again?"

Sirius let loose a tear himself and placed a hand over Harry's heart as if preparing to utter a final goodbye, "The ones who love us never really leave us, you can always find them in here, pup."

The world stilled before cracking into a million shards of glass with Sirius's face disappearing from existence in an instant… as if he had never been there in the first place. The world faded to black for the metaphorical curtains had overlaid the stage in draping darkness. He could not see his own hands. The motion, the vibration of life, brought his attention to a distant point that was one among infinity in his monochromic view. A gust, a siren, the smell of leaves falling from an autumn spell. Then there was light.

His emerald eyes flew open to the dim light of candles as they adjusted to the ambiance of the hospital room. His head ached with the jolts of a thousand hammers that had sought to antagonize his brain even in the afterlife. Where was he?

"Monsieur Potter?"

Harry moved his eyes slowly, only to gaze upon two shadow-cloaked figures adorned in blue flowing cloaks towering over him. One sat on a wooden stool that didn't look like it could support his weight while another slinked back in the shadows, intently observing the door for any signs of intruders that would want to foil this little meet-and-greet. He moved closer to the pillow while his off-hand tried to grab his wand that would be tucked in the back pocket of his trousers. He stopped once his right hand grabbed his bare buttocks and he realised that he was in a flimsy hospital gown. The French mediwizards were more muggle-like than their counterparts in England, that was for sure.

"Monsieur Potter can you hear me?" The man's heavy tone rang from within his skull.

His head turned upwards as if he was caught sleep-walking in Transfiguration and he was about to get chewed out by Professor McGonagall, only to deflate once he realised that he wasn't at Hogwarts and instead with two unknown men in a hospital ward. Did the Death Eaters have a French branch office? His eyes darted in search of his wand.

"Monsieur Potter!"

He finally nodded. Maybe they just wanted to greet him on his successful recovery. It wasn't as if their faces were covered in cloth to hide them from recognition and it wasn't as if their piercing wands were constantly twirling in their hands – one in the direction of the door, the other the window. The two men seemed to share a look before the one standing up turned his face briefly away from the door to look at him instead.

"There is nothing to worry about. We are from the French Department of Mysteries, here just to check up on you." The man's smooth baritone voice with not a hint of accent put him on edge. "To be frank with you you're a bloody miracle Monsieur Potter. You were hit with the killing curse... you should be dead. Are you truly unkillable or is it just the killing curse I wonder?"

"I don't wish to find out," he spit out still trying to figure out where they put his blasted wand. "What did you do to the Delacours?"

The agents predatory eyes gleamed in the shadows of the room. "You wound our honour Monsieur Potter. We would never intentionally harm our own citizens. As I said, we are here only to check up on you. Are you feeling quite alright?"

"Bugger off," he said, shifting in his bed to hold on with a deathly grip amidst his weakened form.

These agents had no insignia. They were afraid of getting interrupted. The soles of their feet were muddy and they had no accent. His breath caught in his throat when he spotted the blue glow exuding from the end of a foreign wand.

"Monsieur Potter calm down; we wish you no harm." The first agent visibly shifted in his seat, his hand holding his wand in a snake-like grip as it too gained a blue edge.

They were not going to kill him, no nothing so crude. Instead these kidnapping nutters were going to obliviate him!

"I said BUGGER OFF!" He screamed at the top of his lungs as he twisted from the bed, avoiding two splashes of blue.

He dropped down onto the cold, hard floor, the breeze billowing through his messy hair. He opened his eyes to find himself lying flat on the hospitals roof in his flimsy hospital robe with no wand or anything else on him and the Eiffel tower looming in the distance amidst falling snow, its looming figure visible even in the dark. Accidental apparation never felt so good.

Thud! Thud! Thud! Footsteps from the creaky stairs indicated dashing feet as someone tried to climb up onto the roof. He pulled himself up from the by-product of accidental apparition and scampered off in the direction of the oddly placed ladder who's purpose on a magical hospital was a bit of an oddity. Grabbing the first stainless bar, he was slammed with the noise of the Parisian traffic from stories below – one slip and no magic on earth would save him. He brought his knees to the forefront and set his foot down, descending with an iron-clad grip on both handles. He set one foot after another, the cold biting away at his fingertips. One foot after another, cautiously, carefully...

"Monsieur Potter!"

He sped up, grabbing the handles, and swinging himself like a monkey down the branches.

"Monsieur Potter!"

A little more to go. He was so close! His hand grabbed onto the next handle. He lowered himself down. His bare foot slipped. His body jerked backwards. His eyes widened. His right fist glued itself to the metal as he stayed upright by the barest of margins.

His free left hand instinctually rested on the inflamed nape of his neck as he tried to leverage himself. Swinging his feet back onto the handles, he regained balance. Snorting out some of the snow that had somehow blocked his nose, he was back to being fully-operational albeit with only one arm functional, the other refusing to budge from the torn-up neck. Tightly controlling his descent, he finally jumped off into the winter snow and dashed onto the road.

Society flared all around him. Headlights, car horns and dashing French pedestrians that got scarcer as more and more snow started piling up on the side-walk. Despite this, people craned their necks out of the comforts of their cars to watch the mad-hospital escapee dashing across the pavement with barely any clothing on his body as he seemed to be running from an as of yet unknown terror.

A spell flew overhead as he ducked down, his Quidditch-borne reflexes finally finding their real world application. He jumped of like he was Carl Lewis and sprinted off in the 100 meter race. He turned a corner and lost his balance as he slid on his unprotected arse down the tarmac. As always, Ben Johnson was gaining on him at every pitfall caused by his strained injury.

He stood amidst the giggling and some even outright laughter coming from the nearby cars and made another dash for it. Decency stopped mattering once he discovered two megalomaniac typos wanting to erase his memories to do whatever the hell it was that they wanted to do with him. He ducked from another thrown spell and his moment of relief eroded like Holderness coast as he intentionally face-planted on the side-walk to avoid a spell cast from point-blank range right in front of where he was!

He threw himself of the ground into the agent's legs knocking them both down. They struggled, fighting over the wand so near the road. The lights up ahead turned green. He punched the agent in the face, slamming his fists against his shoulder only to get shoved in return for his efforts. He held onto dear life as he bit his fingernails into the agents hand as they twisted in the embrace of battle. His grip slackened and he could see the smirk forming on the agents face as he overturned him onto his back and reached for the decisive hold of the wand.

He sunk his teeth into the man's left shoulder and the agent's fingers slackened in surprise. Using this moment of advantage, he rolled the wand onto the tarmac. The agent sprang after his wand and he was only too glad to help push him onto the road as a swerving red mini-cooper collided head on, it's right wheel squeezing the agent's head into a volatile spray of gore – bone, blood and brain included.

Holding his bile in, he lifted himself up and ran for dear life as the second agent was still somewhere around here and if he were not going to be done in before, he would certainly be in for it now. He stumbled down slippery staircases, leaving behind footprints of blood as he slipped past rudimentary toll-gates and onto a sparse cabin heading only god knows where. He sank himself into a seat and let out a breath. A small banner above the opposite aisle proclaimed a most 'Merry Christmas'.

He let out a strangled, animalistic breath; visibly frightening the couple sitting in the far corner and the old, bearded man who had previously been reading the paper. He finally let himself relax into his seat. If he were caught now then he would have no avenue of escape regardless. There was nothing that he could do now. The subway jolted as it finally gained gait.

He closed his eyes and relaxed. It was over. It was all over now. All he had on him was his hospital gown. No glasses, no wand, no friends but only bloodied feet and himself on the wrong end of the Channel. Life was a clusterfuck sometimes. He groaned in his muted sleep. When would all this be over?

"Sir? Sir, wake up," Two burly hands shook him by the shoulders as his eyes cracked open to the bright glow of the sun. "Sir, we have reached Brest."

He stirred as his eyes finally adjusted to the morning light. "Breasts?"

"Oui_, _but Brest not whatever your dirty English mind is thinking off."

"How did you know that I was English?"

"By your outfit I assumed you to be English sir. People of your nationality are rather... eccentric."

He brought himself up to rub his eyes, slightly miffed at being called barmy before remembering that he was wearing a bloodied hospital gown. "So erm... where are breasts – erm... sorry, where is _Brest _in Paris?"

"Paris sir? You must be joking; Brest is in Brittany."

A stone must have dropped somewhere. "What? But this is a subway!"

"Non sir, this is rail and we are in Brittany. Might I enquire as to your ticket?"

"Umm." He reached for his pockets only to realise that he had no pockets to begin with let alone some sort of ticket.

"Of course you don't have anything on you and you appeared out of thin air on my rail! _Absolument hilarant_! Out with you, out! You've given moi enough trouble already without me having to bother the police at this early hour. Consider this your Christmas present sir, now out!"

"But I..."

"Out!"

He was gracefully kicked off the rail into the wilds of a French train station, passer-byes gazing at him like he was a local attraction, the so-dubbed 'Crazed, _Anglaise_'. It was still better than being dubbed the-boy-who-lived. A group of people passing by chattered away in French and he could identify some of the words that they were saying. He was receiving some accelerated learning of the French language these past few days, something which his heritage found most alarming. He needed to sit down to avail himself of realising that he might be eating frogs for dinner by this rate and in this state.

He sat on the bench over-looking the rail lines, their endless tracks stretching on east from whence he had come by on a cold, winded night. Light dew hung atop the station but it was still stunted with the start of morning, heralding a new renewal.

It was Christmas Eve. Even the train station was adorned with bells and fake holly on top of its roof along with some red ribbons pinned along the walls. He was cold, alone, and miserable. He never missed his friends as he did now. All of this running, all of this confusion… he just wanted to be back home.

How could he contact the Order though? He had no magical way to communicate with them. It was not as if he would be able to send an owl either, maybe in Paris but he was downright convinced that there was not a single magical soul apart from himself in a town named 'Brest'. He had no wand, he had no ink, he had no... his eyes settled on a telephone booth. Of course. The bloody telephone.

He stood up and went over to the booth, lifting the phone embedded with ebony paint and holding it like a precious gemstone. He then set it down and went back to the bench. The Dursleys would immediately put the phone down as they wanted nothing to do with him and he had forgotten that the Grangers were on holiday. His arms held his head as silent tears rolled off uncontrollably despite anything that he tried to do to stop them. On some level he most likely even encouraged them to come. He hugged himself closer and rocked himself on the bench – something that he hadn't attempted ever since he left the permanent residency of the cupboard. How could things have gone so _wrong_?

At least he wasn't a drugged escapee hiding out at the bottom of a lake in the fringes of Finland after a bank heist gone wrong. He chuckled despite himself. Where did that come from? He dragged himself to walk back to the phone-booth. If he couldn't call Hermione or his relatives than who could he call? Nobody sprang to mind. Okay then, how could he get off this god-forsaken Britannic rip-off? He paced alongside the booth. He didn't know how to drive a car; he didn't have his broomstick and there was no floo to fall out of. He sat down on the floor and gazed stupidly at the bells on the roof again. He was pretty sure that the answer was looking him right in the face.

He abruptly jolted backwards as if dodging a spell for a hundredth time that day as his eyes widened and he hit his hands against the cement. Christmas, the roof, the bells, Hermione – Apparition! He had used it, albeit accidentally, to escape from the agents earlier that same day! Fleur had brought him to France this way! He had travelled with Dumbledore earlier this year! By Merlin, there were even apparition classes being offered after Christmas which both Ron and Hermione would be attending!

But could he do it? Could he control it outside of a death or life situation? Well there was only one way to find out. He picked himself up while trying his best to clear his mind. What had been consistent the last times in which he had both apparated alone? He had been in a hurry but most importantly, he had wished with all of his might to be away, away from it all.

He dropped his shoulders and concentrated. He wanted to be gone, he wanted to be gone from France and walk as if he was fresh out of Hogwarts. He wanted to be free. Scenes of meadows and the quite stillness of the morning only interrupted by the appetizing smell of food that seeped in from the floorboards flashed into his mind. _He wanted to go home._

POP!

The world twisted into a tube. His eardrums burst into his skull while his shut eyes watered from the pressure. The world was spinning as if Armageddon had come knocking. Somewhere, he collided with what felt to be a metal object and he twisted in mid-air before body-slamming into the rough floorboards that creaked underneath the pressure. Finally… it was all over.

"Blimey Harry, you're back!"

His smile returned in full force. Wouldn't Hermione get a kick out of this!

**_Next Up: Of Many Reunions_**


	4. Of Many Reunions

_Chapter 4: Of Many Reunions_

* * *

"There, there dear. Would you like me to cook you something? I am sure that you must be hungry," Mrs. Weasley asked as she gently rubbed his sore neck.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley but I'm fine," he grunted out after he finished vomiting in the bucket that Mr. Weasley had put under him – apparently he was lucky that he hadn't split into a thousand different pieces and sprayed blood all over the carpet.

Mr. Weasley swatted him on the back, causing a new wave of nausea to descend into the bucket. "Come now Harry! Tell us about where you've been! You've had us worried young man, what with your irresponsible disappearance in the middle of the night. Why we even thought that old You-Know-Who had you in his clutches!"

"Sorry Mr. Weasley," he sputtered out. "It was nothing really. A small misunderstanding..."

"Misunderstanding huh?" Mr. Weasley said as he eyed his bloodied hospital robe and pointed at his scratches, marks and bruises. "That must have been one big misunderstanding to cause all of this commotion."

Mrs. Weasley, seemingly breaking out of her fevered stupor of helping him, started examining him too beyond the cloak that the twins had covered him in. Ron gave him a sympathetic look.

"HARRY POTTER! WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!" Everybody flinched as Mrs. Weasleys famous banshee voice filled the first floor of the Burrow to where he could even swear seeing some cracks form on the kitchen's windows.

Ron's voice obstructed the need to answer _that _question with a, "Harry, mate, where's your scar?"

The room grew silent as everybody focused on his suspiciously empty forehead as his hands trailed through his mucked-up hair. "I told you. It's a long story."

"A long story indeed," came an ancient, soothing voice from the open doorway. "Forgive me Molly, but I rather forgot to knock this time around."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Ron exclaimed in surprise.

He could just about pick out one of the twins handing a Sickle to the other behind their backs as Mrs. Weasley turned her head towards the doorway so fast that it hurt to look at, "No worries Albus! Harry's returned and we've been so worried over his health that we wouldn't have heard you even had you knocked!"

"Indeed." Dumbledore's eyes met his as he was met with the familiar twinkle behind the half-mooned spectacles that he hadn't seen in quite some time; the same eyes that had given him the prophecy, the same eyes that had indirectly caused Sirius's death, "I am gladdened to know that young Mister Potter has decided to grace us with his presence again. I am sure that Poppy would want to check him over when he gets back to Hogwarts after the holidays. She has been on alert lately, muttering to herself about the Potter genes wrecking her holiday plans yet again."

He blushed, eyes finding special interest in the texture of the floor even as Mr. Weasley sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. "How were you so certain that he would come back Albus?"

"Oh no," Dumbledore said, "I wasn't certain by any means but I knew that Mister Potter was intelligent enough to know that he could call on the Knight Bus to aid him wherever he was. And if that failed him – well, he could always call on Kreacher to rescue his master from any situation."

He looked at Dumbledore's irritating twinkling eyes and hit his foot against the wooden chair next to his bucket, instantly regretting his decision as his toe forced him to grit his teeth in pain. He understood that Dumbledore was indirectly giving him advice for the future while playing up to his strengths but damn it all, it wasn't for nothing! He had taught himself how to apparate and that had to count for something. He also needed his wand to call the Knight Bus although; admittedly, calling on Kreacher's help was a much better idea compared to any of his own. Speaking of his wand...

"I don't have a wand."

"Say that again Harry? I didn't quite catch that," Mr. Weasley leaned in as did the other occupants in the room.

"I said that I don't have my wand on me."

Dumbledore seemed to freeze in a way that he had never seen the man do before, scaring him out of his wits if he was honest. The wizened headmaster looked him up and down, really looked this time, the twinkle now absent from his eyes. He finally gazed upon his forehead, and asked, "Just where've you been young Harry?"

He let out a dissatisfied sigh, "It's a long story headmaster. One that I'd rather not talk about until I've got something to eat at least."

"That seems fair," Dumbledore's voice seemed to stop Mrs. Weasley in her tracks before she could make her inquiry into just what type of mince pie he would prefer from her pantry, turning to the room at large to address them all, "Young Harry has just arrived and I am sure that he is starving. Let the boy recover. He is bound to tell us of his grand adventure once he's been gorged to the high heavens. Oh and Messer's Weasley," Dumbledore's gaze turned towards the twins, "Try to lay off your pranks for a little while or else I daresay that you will be in for a bit of a shock at the expected reactions."

With Mr. Weasleys eyes trained on them, the Weasley twins mock saluted the headmaster, "Aye, Aye Sir! Your wish is our command for us lowly servants!"

"And now forgive me for I must depart. I have urgent matters to attend to. Remember Arthur, Molly..." here he hesitated, looking at him once more, "...and Harry that the Order meeting is at three sharp, right after lunch, and I await you all at Grimmauld place with due diligence."

"But Albus, Harry is too young!" Mrs. Weasley couldn't keep it in this time.

"The subject to be discussed concerns young Mister Potter, Molly, thus I have seen it fit to invite him to be present at the meeting. Do not worry yourself, nothing inappropriate shall be discussed with Harry there."

"Well alright then – but he doesn't sign up with the Order!"

"Naturally, Molly, naturally. Arthur," the headmaster nodded to Mr. Weasley who nodded in return, "Children."

"Hey! We're not children!" exclaimed George, or was it Fred?

Dumbledore's eyes gained back their twinkle, "Of course you are not Mister Weasley. I must rather say that your beard is most impressive. Farewell, I shall see you back in classes in no time I dare venture."

The headmaster gave one last nod before departing outside to presumably disapparate in his long cloak covered in celestial bodies, stars and orbiting planets. The twins looked each other over and both exclaimed at the same time, "What beards?!"

Ron rolled his eyes, "Come on Harry, we've got to get you out of those 'clothes' and into some proper robes."

"Don't forget to come down for lunch!" Mrs. Weasley shouted after them.

"Yes Mum!" shouted back Ron.

As soon as they got into Ron's room, he let his shoulders slump, "Thanks mate for saving me back there, your mum was going ballistic."

Ron eyed him, "Well she had a good reason to do so. Here's some of your clothes that I nicked along with your trunk from Hogwarts. Go wash up and then we'll talk – you stink."

He man-hugged Ron despite the hurdled protests, "Thanks Ron."

Ron grew indignant as soon as he stopped trying to choke him and made a dash for the bathroom, "You jerk! Now I smell like you as well!"

He laughed for the first time in a while, it felt good to let go, "It's an improvement!" He bashed the door shut, hearing the thud of a thrown shoe colliding with the door. He was home.

Turning the knob in the shower, he started twitching as he immediately battled with the controls to stop being layered in freezing cold water in the winter. Warm, soft, silky veins of cleansing liquid finally started cascading down his skin and he finally got to rest under its calming streams. Life was going so fast at the moment that it was good to reset and rest in this moment of calm.

He thought of Fleur. Would she show up at the Order meeting? He could imagine her freaking out, searching for him right now. Pulling out her hair, drinking herself under, uplifting the whole place... he needed to find her as soon as possible. Tell her that he was alright. Perhaps he would send her Hedwig? If Ron took her to the Burrow as well that is, otherwise, he would have to think of another way to contact her.

And what about those agents? Where they really who they claimed to be even despite all of the evidence that had said otherwise along with his gut feeling? Maybe he had overreacted a bit, in any case, killing off one of their own could only worsen relations with whomever had sent the two... but he had tried to kidnap him. He shivered in the water as he washed off some of the dried blood on his legs and chest. That man's face had been squashed like a watermelon smashed in with a car-long hammer.

He held a hand to his mouth to prevent himself from barfing before he got out of the shower and let go of it in the toilet. After dry-heaving what was left of his Hogwarts dinner from three days ago, he washed his face and switched off the shower. He checked himself out in the mirror. His emerald green eyes were shadowed with dark bangs of stress, his messy hair was lumped lifelessly on his head and his absent scar was the only indication that his talk with Sirius had ever happened. Horcruxes were real. He would need to inform Dumbledore of this in private. Unless he already knew?

He opened the door and stepped outside anew, with his everyday black robes on that he barely wore outside of Hogwarts. They swished through the air and their unremarkableness was masked by their representation of millennia of wizarding history.

"Admiring yourself in the mirror now mate? That's a _long_ nose you have there."

"Shut up Ron. At least I can see my own prick."

"Hey!" Ron threw a pillow, "I'm not fat!"

"Yeah sure. I bet that's why McGonagall had to order new Quidditch robes just for you."

"You're a prick, you know that?" Ron yelled indignantly.

He smiled, "Well at least I'm a _long_ one."

Ron groaned, "Three days and he went from intolerable brat to Snape's son."

"Oh that's it," he growled as Ron's eyes widened.

He grabbed an umbrella and charged as Ron grabbed the remaining pillow on his bed. Umbrella smashed pillow as he short-charged Ron onto the bed. Ron pressed back as he was thrown to the floor and managed to roll out of the way just in time to avoid a stomping foot. He twisted around the umbrella and hit a yelping Ron on the leg, "You're all out of practice!"

"Aye, Aye Sir!" Ron mimicked the twins as he suddenly sprang right at him!

He tried to dodge but there was not enough room to manoeuvre nor time with which to do so. Ron's body smashed into his side, bringing him down under Ron's weight as he was mercilessly choked under the pillow's overarching reach.

He hit his hand against the floor as he struggled against the pillow's dense fabric, "'nough!"

"Ha! I stand triumphant against the Chosen One! Another victory for Ronald Weasley!"

He spat out the odd feather that had managed to climb its way into his mouth. "Shut up. You got lucky this time."

"Don't be such a cold sore Harry. I'm sure you will win next time you're built up for the keeper role – or in a couple hundred, thousand years, you know, whichever comes first." He rolled his eyes and dragged the umbrella back to its place as Ron collected the pillows. "So what have you been up to while you were on your merry adventure without me?"

Possibly because he was still sore after his lose or that Ron was his best friend but he decided to humour Ron's request by telling him absolutely everything: the suicide attempt... Fleur's long locks of hair... Bill's intervention...bloody France... the moment where he _died_... meeting Sirius in the afterlife... the horrifying nature of Horcruxes... the French Ministry of Magic trying to kidnap him... accidently murdering one of his kidnappers while fleeing for his life... all the way down to learning how to apparate from a place called 'Brest'.

After an hour of recounting his _adventure_, Ron looked like a Horntail dragon had walked over him before killing off every member of the Chudley Cannons. "Bloody hell Harry... you need to see a psychiatrist. I cannot believe that you didn't take me along to help you! This is... it's just too..."

"Unbelievable?" he tried to helpfully add.

"Unbelievable? _Unbelievable_?!" Ron looked at him as if he'd lost his mind, "It sounds bloody barmy to me! Seriously Harry, I cannot believe that I was jealous of you in fourth year with the whole cup thing. Cor! Your life is worse than that of Moaning Myrtle!"

"Thanks Ron, really cheered me up there."

"I'm serious. If you don't die before you finish Hogwarts, I'll donate my Cleansweep to charity."

He sank down onto the bed. "So what should we do about it then?"

Ron shook his head, collecting his thoughts. "Well… first things first. It looks like we will need to destroy these Horcruxes, wherever they are, and we cannot… I repeat… we _cannot _tell anybody else expect Mione about this whole '_adventure'_. Bill would be absolutely pissed and _Dumbledore_? Harry, you could start the Second Wizarding War right here and now with those accusations against those bastards the French! Merlin, I wish Hermione was here, she could form a plan or something that would make everything better!"

He looked up puzzled, "I thought you were fighting?"

"Well... we are but you're our friend so it's all water under the bridge. Perhaps we got a bit carried away..."

"What about Lavender?"

Ron scratched his head, "It... it doesn't matter. Speaking of Lavender, seen the ugly necklace she sent me for Christmas?"

"Of course not Ron. I came today, remember?"

"Huh, maybe my memory is failing me at this old age but then where is my magnificent beard?"

They both broke out into laughter. It felt good to be laughing with Ron again considering he had just laid out his past few days out bare to him but he didn't know what else he was expecting. Ron was still Ron. He was still his best friend.

He caught the thrown necklace and looked over the heart-shaped amulet with the words 'My Sweetheart' embedded in golden italics across the centre. "That doesn't look ugly, I think it was meant to be sentimental. Classy. The twins will love it!"

Ron sent him a death stare at the mention of the twins, "Well yeah, but _I_ don't like it."

"Well if you don't like it then maybe I should keep it?"

"Bugger off," Ron grumbled as he grabbed the necklace out of his hands and stuffed it back under his pillowcase, "If Lavender doesn't see me with this when we come back than I'm in hotter water than Bill with Mum."

"Why? What's he in for?"

"Well apparently he and Fleur are going through a rough patch and she decided to go on back to her family in France – wait, it was you! You caused this entire mess!"

"What mess Ron? I'm afraid that you're gonna have to be more specific."

"Harry, Bill likes Fleur but Mum doesn't like her and wants him to be with Tonks but Tonks likes Remus but Remus likes Hestia Jones and she likes him back but Bill and Tonks don't like each other! And now Fleur seems to be distancing herself and well –"

"Mrs. Weasley took it as a sign? Hold up. How do you even know this? I didn't take you for caring about this sort of stuff. Wait Ron, are you getting... feministic?"

He got a well-deserved punchout of it but at least Ron's pink face bloomed so hard that it would never be the same colour again, "You know, with you gone there is no one to spend time with and we have a lot of women guests come over that tend to gossip so..." He exaggeratedly shook his head, as if he was a teacher that had caught Ron sneaking around the corridors after curfew causing Ron to redden even more, "Oh don't give me that! You like indirectly started half of this bullshit!"

"Yes but I did it by accident whereas you spend time around girls listening to romance stories. That and the necklace. Hmm, I wonder, are you sure that you're not going –"

"The only thing that I'm going to do is to KILL YOU POTTER!"

Ron tried to lock him into a hold unsuccessfully before he sprang up and made a dash for it downstairs, yelling backwards, "Well, you know?! It makes sense that you've turned to the opposite gender!"

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU POTTER!" The thud of Ron's shoes would stump any elephant out of its mind.

He dashed into the wide open kitchen and rapidly hid himself behind a newly awoken Ginny that stared at him with wide-eyes as if he was the devil himself. "Hello Ginny. Mind if you can protect me from –"

"POTTER!"

"That," he gulped as he held onto Ginny's waist and hid himself behind her as Ron barged into the room.

"WHERE ARE YOU –"

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING SCARING POOR HARRY LIKE THAT!" Ginny unleashed her inner-Molly, starting the battle of the giants.

Ron gulped, stretching the folds of his jumper as he retreated from the hidden danger, "Finding Harry?"

"GET YOUR HIDE OUT OF HERE BEFORE I HEX YOU WITH –" Ginny raised her wand threateningly but there was no need, Ron had already dashed off in the direction of the four corners of the world.

"Now Harry, let go of my waist. You know that I have a boyfriend?" Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry," he rubbed his neck as he took a step back.

Her composure faded as she gazed at his forehead, "Harry..."

"Yeah, it's gone. For good."

"Oh that's – good."

"Yeah."

They stood around awkwardly before he tried to make an excuse, "Well I guess I'll go. I have... stuff to do and –"

"Yeah, you go and I also have stuff… to do so… yeah," Ginny mumbled back before they quickly left each other, his face the colour of smoked salmon.

'His face was lighting up with many magnificent colours these days,' he thought to himself as he climbed back to the room that he shared with Ron to find the latter lying in wait on the bed, a Chudley Cannons magazine in hand. "Geez, Harry, I understand that I wanted to kill you but still... did you have to unleash the fury?"

"Sorry," he said slowly without looking at Ron.

Ron looked at him as if he were bonkers, "Everything alright with you?"

"Yeah, I'm... Ron, where's Hedwig?"

Ron snorted as only Ron could, throwing a pair of socks into the laundry basket that closed with a _snap_. "She's at Hogwarts. Didn't want to move an inch without you there to supervise it. Bloody thing just about bit my fingers off! What do you keep feeding it?"

"Well Hedwig has a tendency to gnaw at rats…"

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Harry… you're not comparing me to Pettigrew are you because if so –"

He raised his hands defensively, "Ron why would I compare you to your boyfriend? I was going to ask if I could borrow Pigwidgeon?"

Ron threw the other pair of socks at his face, seeker-born reflexes saving him at the last second from having to smell Ron's disgusting feet. "You are an utter prat. You can have Pig. Permanently if I had any say in it. He would be in the corridor, right next to the window but," Ron paused as he tried to formulate his thoughts, "Try not to give him something too heavy will ya? He's more likely to drop it in the sea than carry it to the person you need him to carry it to, if you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, thanks Ron," he replied, noticing that Ron probably figured out the recipient of the message already… and Hermione had called him dumb.

"I think it's time for dinner Harry. I'm starving," Ron looked up from the magazine once more, seeming to invite him to once again go down to the kitchen.

Hermione was apparently right in her judgment. "Ron... it's lunch."

"Oi! I knew that! Was just checking you is all. You joining?" Ron asked as he stood up to stretch, muscles jolting into movement from all the time spent in comatose while waiting for his best friend.

"Course, but I want to write the letter first –"

"Gotcha. Then I'll see you Harry though make sure to hurry so that there'll be some mince pie left for you after I'm done with it," Ron casually whistled as he strolled out of the room, making sure to demonstratively close the door.

Sighing and shaking his head, he grabbed a spare sheet of parchment and began the laborious task of deciding on what to risk telling when owl mail could be intercepted. Eventually he decided on putting down to ink the bare minimum, writing the bare bones summary of what had transpired while putting emphasis on the fact that he was safe and sound with several underlines marking the point that they would meet at the next meeting of the chicken club so that she wouldn't have to worry. He was just about done with the last sentence when he heard the first knock. The door opened a crack letting Ginny's voice filter in, "Mind if I come in Harry?"

"Sure," he said, his hands working on hiding the parchment inside of its letter container without an addressed name while Ginny sauntered over.

He turned to ask her how she was doing but when their eyes met his brain turned to jelly. Did she do something to her hair? She eyed his ruffled appearance with the eyes of a hawk that made him self-conscious beyond belief, his hands scrambling to hurriedly hide the letter away before sitting down on his bed to join her. She was dressed nicely in long jeans and a crumpled t-shirt, her hair hanging over in a braid that had definitely not been there before, complementing her freckled face.

"Hey Harry, guess we haven't talked in a while before today. Writing someone?" she asked as her face split into a sincere smile that would have melted his brain if it hadn't imploded already.

"I – Ah – Yeah Ginny, long time no see," he stumbled out as he tried to appear more relaxed than he was really in her presence, "I was just writing… Mione… to tell her that I was here."

"Oh," Ginny said the word as if he had been brutally beating her brother to death when she had walked in, "So where've you been? Tonks mentioned something about you enjoying yourself at the Shrieking Shack when she last saw you."

"She's exaggerating," he waved it off, internally cussing Tonks' name in combinations that would surely result in even Ginny's eyes widening if he said it out loud.

"That's not the way she told it and frankly I agree with her," Ginny took his face into her hands, moving his suddenly still and fairly red form around to observe him from all angles with her penetrating fiery gaze, "You do seem different, aside from all the blood. What's her name? You can tell me, I won't tell."

"Well there is someone I've been seeing on the side but you cannot tell anyone about this," he stated gravely, Ginny humming an affirmative before leaning in close as he whispered in her ear, "It's Rita Skeeter."

Ginny's face flushed a gorgeous scarlet red while he laughed his guts out at the look on her face. His laughs became yelps as Ginny proceeded to beat the living daylights out of him. "Ginny! Stop! _Ginny_!"

"Oh no you get right here mister. I'm not done with you yet!" Ginny yelled as she wrestled him to the floor, the Weasley bane proving her strength as they engaged in a contest the winner of who could hardly be guessed to win. Finally, when it seemed that he had got the upper hand and his victory was assured, Ginny hit out with her secret weapon… a kiss.

The world stopped moving. Their attempts at wrestling ceased immediately. It was just the two of them, staring into each other's eyes, not quite sure of what had happened but that didn't stop them. One kiss turned into two, two turned into three and before he knew it Ginny was shirtless and they were engaging in a make-out session all over his bed. Life was strange sometimes although he must confess that some of the surprises it had in store for him left him ecstatic.

"So that's why you came here," he managed to get off his chest while they panted for breath.

"Sorry Harry but I couldn't think of how else to start this. What else was I supposed to do, tell you to get rid of your shirt and get on the bed? I've gotten awfully bored here with only Ron for company and I thought if you were up to it then we could have… you know, some fun," Ginny empathized as she went after his own shirt.

"You don't see me complaining," he grinned as their lips joined for a second round.

"Consider it your Christmas present," Ginny whispered in his ear when she ended their _fun_, hurriedly dressing herself up again.

His shoulders slumped down the length of the bed. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because Ron walks like an elephant that learned to read and write," and no sooner had those words sounded than Ronald Weasley, his _best _friend, appeared in the flesh while pushing open the door with no regard for privacy.

"Blimey mate how long am I gonna wait for – Ginny? What are you doing here?" Ron stopped in his tracks.

"Me and Harry were just having some fun. Why? Does that bother you because it shouldn't. I'm a big girl and get to make my own decisions. You're a big boy aren't you Ronald, you should understand that. I will be in the kitchen if you two boys need me." Without a single word more, Ginny left the room leaving a crate of unexploded ordinance behind that would go of at any ginger-themed spark.

He did not have to wait long for the first fireworks to appear. "Harry! Why do you have to do this to me! First Fleur and now my _sister_?!"

He put his hands up, trying to stifle the explosion. "Firstly, nothing happened with Fleur, you know that. Secondly –"

But Ron refused to listen to reason, bemoaning the unfairness of life while interrupting his own speech, "Harry I don't know what to do with you, do you understand that? I can't even kill you because you just came back to life, yet I cannot let you live because you're shagging my sister! What a best pal you are mate! Bloody barmy this whole thing is… and with my sister to boot! My _sister _Harry!"

"Ron!" he shook Ron by the shoulders, getting his undivided hysteric attention so he could speak to him in 'Ron's language', "Would you rather that Dean Thomas shag your sister?"

Ron stilled, gaining a thoughtful look in his eyes before spitting to the side, "Merlin's saggy balls, of course not! What am I, bonkers?!"

"Then would you want Neville to shag her? Or Seamus?"

Ron held his nose with his hands before he let his hands join him at the sides. "I see your point. While I would rather no one came within ten feet of her, you are the safer bet."

He chose not to interpret the words the wrong way even if they were meant as such and instead bulldozed over with his main point, "So you see, out of all of them that I am the best choice. If things with Ginny go well we could even be family. A real _family_."

Ron took some time to think things over, obviously liking the appeal of the statement but not quite sure if he should be letting him of the hook so easily. "But if you so much as hurt my sister –"

He raised his hands up in surrender. "I think that she would be the first in line to end me then and there and I doubt that she has any reservations over my sainthood either."

This appeared to do it for Ron who finally relaxed from his upright position, sighing wistfully before looking out of the window, "Alright then, I will allow you to date my sister but only on two conditions. One is that you owe me a favour – a _big _favour."

"Fine but you cannot force me to hide Malfoy's body because I would do that for free. What's the second thing?"

Ron smile came and went before he turned suddenly serious, "You must stay clear of Tonks. You can hang out with Fleur, provided that nothing is really going on between you two but you must resist Tonks _at all costs_ for me not to pummel you to death."

"Tonks?" he asked, suddenly interested in the Auror, Ron staring at him as if daring him to say the words to his own eulogy.

"Don't ask. Just stay clear of her like the plague… if you want to live that is."

He put up his hands in another placating gesture, putting into his mental checklist to talk to Tonks at the first opportunity. "Got it. I owe you a favour that will probably have me convincing some poor lass that you are good for anything in the near future and I should keep my distance from a veteran Auror who might be assigned to my protection even in times of danger. Seems doable."

Ron raised an eyebrow as he left for the kitchens, leaving behind a cryptic, "That's what you think," before he was gone from view, his steps thundering off downstairs in the wake of the closing door.

He slumped down onto the bed, his time with Ginny on the forefront of his mind before the letter to Fleur filtered through his conscious. With a curse, he flipped back onto the soles of his feet, quickly changing into some casual wear. Outside he found Pigwidgeon resting near the frame of a half-open window, his tiny, little wings huddled to sustain warmth as the poor owl rocked from side to side in the faint morning breeze. He sent the poor bugger with the message, choosing to close the window in his wake as he made his way down to the kitchen where he found himself sitting at the table along with the rest of the Weasley clan, Ginny sitting on the other side of the twins, avoiding his eyes whenever he looked at her.

"What has gotten into you Potter?" Ron demanded to know as he piled a mountain of mashed potato onto his plate. "Tired of shagging my sister already?"

The twin's wide eyes went wild with ensuing pandemonium that left even Mrs. Weasley untouched considering her beat red face when she positively slammed a wooden spoon across Ron's hands with the threat of 'language' hanging in the air before exiting the room to leave the children to their own devices.

"Things have gone swimmingly Ron," he went with the flow of things, making the later sweat when Ron realised why he would keep calm in a reversing situation, "After you allowed us to date that is."

Did he say pandemonium? He meant mayhem unending considering that Fred and George had utterly lost their minds, one slapping Ron by the head for even considering such a thing while the other slipped what looked like a sticky firework onto Ron's back. Worse by far for Ron's reproductive health was the fact that Ginny's face had grown a dangerous red and he was glad to say that it was all directed at that fuse starter Ron, "_Ronald allowed us to what?!"_

"Date," he happily supplied, reaching over to also pile on some of those delicious mashed potatoes while the world was burning itself down around him in chaos untold.

Ron sunk lower in his seat until his head rested underneath the table, waiting for the headsman's axe to fall, knowing that there was no figure under the sun that could save him now… expect perhaps Dobby and only then temporarily.

"Oh." His mind slammed on the brakes, his attention turning towards Ginny while she carefully wiped her mouth with a napkin, "Thank you Ron for your blessing, not as if I need it, but we're not dating."

Ron's mouth hung open, "But… you said… _Harry_?!"

Ginny laughed, her voice the ringing of a thousand bells that each burst against his own head until it ached unbearably, "I was pulling your leg. Me and Harry? Whatever made you think that? Harry's cute and all but I'm dating Dean Thomas. You should really mind your own business Ron."

Ron went upstairs shortly after that statement, his appetite long gone in face of Ginny's mind games. He himself continued to stare at the empty wall while the action around him subsided until he was standing by the sink, Mrs. Weasley's continued absence confounding him to do the dishes in minute detail, the glean of every back-end spoon serving to confirm the absence of the shadows that had marred his scar in this strange world that he now lived in. It seemed that the girl-of-many-faces found some leftover pity in the bottom drawer of her heart for she stood by his side, not quite looking at him as she accepted the wet cutlery through his numb fingers so that before the hour was out, the dishes found themselves back on the shelves, arranged in perfect order. She hadn't said a word. She simply hummed an infernal tune as she climbed the stairs, his eyes glued to her retreating form.

He remained sitting in the kitchen, trying to drink from an empty cup of tea as his brain worked overtime in trying to decipher the female cypher until its possible founder found his comatose self to loudly exclaim that he should have really left all of the cleaning up to her. Mrs. Weasley dusted him off like one did an old broom and brought him towards the front of the house to apparate to headquarters, the winds calm now that the chaos had been sown and reaped its due. He looked into the gnome-infested fields as he mentally shoved himself in the direction of Grimmauld place for he needed to see it, smell it, feel it... especially after that stint of madness. The world slowly disappeared as with a loud pop he was gone like Pigwidgeon in the wind.

**_Next Up: The Order of Honks_**


	5. The Order of Honks

_Chapter 5: The Order of Honks (Christmas Day Special)_

* * *

He tumbled down onto the ground, catching himself at the last possible moment thanks to his Seeker-honed reflexes. He picked himself up, rubbing his bruised elbows while waiting for the elder Weasleys to apparate into being beside him. Cats banged against dust bins and it smelled of piss. They were at Grimmauld Place alright. Ironically, the place had once been an affluent neighbourhood of the elite before it degraded into the gutter that it was today. Doubtlessly he would hear what Walburga Black had to say about that before the day was done.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when she popped into existence, tugging on his ear similar to how a mother reprimands her young child, "You could have at least warned us! I nearly had a heart attack!"

"Sorry Mrs. Weasley. I didn't want to be a bother."

Her tone softened and she patted his head instead, "Oh you're not a bother dear, just warn us the next time you decide to apparate alone and do try to refrain from apparating around Arthur dear, illegal apparition really drives him batty after all the splinching accidents that he has had to deal with."

"Too right dear," Mr. Weasley's comment had his heart jump up to his throat when the middle-aged man appeared out of nowhere, "Ludovic always used to say that you could easily discern a magical alley from an non-magical one by simply looking around for a diced-off finger! Of course that was before he went on the run from that nasty business concerning the goblins. Now I'd wager that he'd hold that joke in poor taste."

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley blustered while her eyes flicked to the entrance door.

"When can a man ever tell a good joke these days Harry? Never is the answer if we are to go by the woman around us. Let's get this motorbike on the road," Mr. Weasley said almost jovially, taking the lead to knock out the three heavy thuds on the nondescript door that was opened immediately by none other than Alastor Moody, the man who he had thought had been his Defence Professor in his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Face marred in grievous scars, Moody looked worse for wear but even now he maintained his vigilance when he barked out, "Password!"

"Relax Mad-Eye, it's only me and Molly along with Harry. Albus didn't give us the password for this month and you know how I am with deceit of any nature," Mr. Weasley said.

Mad-Eye's magical eye focused on his forehead at which he jabbed his wand to his displeasured yelp, "I will believe you if only because of the scar. Get in. Quickly!"

Mr. Weasley gave an easy chuckle as if he found Moody's antics made in good humour, "If you say so Alastor."

They entered the candle-lit corridor where the portrait of Mrs. Black was covered by heavy drapes. Moody's magical eye swerved across the lit street before shutting the door with a huff, bringing them further into the house. They had gotton on their tiptoes when the annoyed retired Auror rolled his eye in a terrifying fashion that only he could pull off. When the peg-leg brought the sleeping banshee awake, the first word hadn't gotten out of her mouth before she chocked on her own breath. Moody swished his wand mid-stride to close the curtains, not paying the painting of Sirius's mother any more attention.

They followed cautiously in his wake to the end of the corridor where a door led to the dining room that served a dual purpose as a meeting room. They found the room packed to bursting, consumed from one end home to a livid, almost snarling Snape arguing over the intrinsic value of potion-brewing with a reluctant Andromeda that looked like she regretted that she had even asked, down to the other end where dwelled the ancient Elphias Doge, his slouch not relaying the fact if he had passed away or was merely finding pleasure in sleeping next to the epicentre of an atomic noise blast.

Try as he might, his eyes could not pick out Fleur's silver locks glinting in the crowd but the changing hues did draw his attention to Tonks or rather she spotted him from where she was conversing with Remus. When their eyes met she gave him a wink, her hair turning from purple to her signature bubble-gum pink. Remembering Ron's words, he happily waved back and approached the duo as if he was merely going to ask Hermione for assistance rather than giving himself up to the jaws of the Horntail that Tonks's smile reminded him of.

"Harry," Remus greeted him first, engulfing him in a semi-hug that allowed the both of them to keep their dignity, "We were so worried about you when Dumbledore announced that you had disappeared. Where were you?"

"Oy Remus cut it out, let the lad breath. Watcher Potter, how's it hanging? Not well I venture judging by your expression. So when are you going to introduce us to her?" Tonks winked conspiringly.

He blinked. "Who?"

"You know who," Tonks winked twice in a row.

"You-Know-Who? But you already know that he's Voldemort –"

"No, no, no! I wasn't talking about that at all! Are all teenagers so airheaded Remus?"

"Hey!" he exclaimed, Tonks's outstretched hand holding back his forehead the only think stopping him from arguing her point.

Remus gave a small, neutral smile, "For the most part… although I know of only one who would be able to master the Patronus Charm in his Third Year."

"Hmm… you have a point. Perhaps he deserves a second chance," she said as if he wasn't even there as he broke out of her hold to find her wand pointed at his nose, her green eyes shining so brightly the curse green that he could see his own eye hue reflected in their colour, "Let's try this again in a language that might get through to your thick head. Who're you shagging Potter?"

"I'm not shagging anyone and its none of your problem," he huffed.

"I'm disappointed. I thought you were off to save another damsel in distress this time around. What gives? She too ugly for you?"

"No, your true self is unique in that regard."

Tonks held a hand to her chest, her eyes scandalised, "Ouch. How do you speak to a lady? Did no one teach you manners? Molly needs to wash your kid mouth with magical soap to clear up that behaviour!"

"Kids enough," Remus intervened, holding his hands in the air like an amused teacher seeking to broker peace between two arguing students, "Play nice with each other. I need to catch up with Hestia now and I will be unhappy to have to split you two up."

"Do you have to go," Tonks pouted, the rims of her ears turning elvish.

"I won't be long," Remus reassured her before leaving them to their own devices.

Tonks huffed, putting her hands on her hips as she stared at Hestia Jones from across the room while she grumbled, "Just what does he see in that women? First name basis as well. I wonder if she wouldn't be as attractive if he were to find a copy of a furry magazine of the bad kind in her hand purse. Am I any worse Harry?"

All earlier bravado forgotten; he ran a foot across the very interesting mahogany floor with subtle patterns from centuries of use. He would always stand up for himself but he wasn't suicidal… at least not anymore, "Yeah. Sure you are Tonks. You are… okay."

"Okay? _Okay_?!" Tonks squawked indignantly before she relaxed and laughed at his tensed up shoulders, "Oh relax I was just messing with you. That time of the month you understand. If only they could get the potion to taste any less disgusting… yuck… I shiver just thinking about it. Have I freaked you out yet?"

"More than enough I think than I am comfortable with," he nodded, subtly toeing his feet away from her.

"Get used to this because I'm here all night – oh bugger. Dumbledore's here. Always ruins my fun. Don't think you're off my hook rascal, I _will _find out where you disappeared to from the Shrieking Shack. Just you wait."

He gave a challenging smile, turning to join the others at the table but not before leaving a reply that left the auror fuming a deep shade of red, "You can try _Nymphadora_."

"Oh that's it mister –"

He failed to hear the rest of her threat since Albus Dumbledore, the founder of the Order of the Phoenix, called the start of the session leaving a stewing Tonks to collapse into the seat on his right, sending him the occasional glare as the avian circus got on the road. To his left sat Kingsley Shacklebolt who gave him a polite nod that he returned. The motion brought him to meet the deadly stare of Professor McGonagall that he tried to shy away from that starkly informed him that he would be in a world of detentions to be severed out by his children's children as soon as he stepped back onto Hogwarts grounds for all of the headache he had caused her on the last school day of the year.

"Are we all here? Excellent! Alastor don't be shy, take your seat," Dumbledore's voice carried over from the head of the tables.

Mad-Eye Moody, being the only one not seated, grumbled to himself before plunking on the farthest stool that he could find. All the while, he kept track of everyone with his normal eye while his magical one wheezed that way and that – trying to find an intruder that wasn't supposed to be there.

Dumbledore at last stood up and spread his arms as all grew quiet, "Friends! Thank you for gathering around on such short notice and especially on such a joyous occasion but unfortunately a matter has come up which requires our immediate attention. The International Confederation of Wizards has flared with activity recently as the French Ministry of Magic has doubled its diplomatic presence in Britain overnight. It is still debated over the reason but I have it from trusted sources that they mean to persuade Fudge to sign an extradition notice for criminals allowing for greater cooperation between the two governments. Just why the French have decided to pursue such a remote project at this exact moment remains a mystery but Scrimgeour is milking their willingness for all the good publicity that it is worth given his uncertain future at the ministry.

Snape's nose slashed through the monologue, "I fail to see how political jerrymandering is our concern headmaster. We should be concerned about the Dark Lord instead of trying to influence the brainless sheep that will fold as soon as he makes his move on the Ministry?"

"Ah but don't you see that this does concern our fight against Voldemort Severus? This treaty; however intentioned, would give us the edge to negotiate an alliance with the French MoM gaining us more support against Voldemort giving us a chance at possibly winning this war!"

The prehistoric Elphias Doge gave a start, his spine stretching out for what seemed the first time in decades as if electrically shocked into place. "Under no circumstance can we accept the help of the French Albus! Those slimy toads have spit on English tradition since time immemorial! They would only be too glad to wipe us from the face of the earth I say! No quarter to the French!"

"Calm down Elphias. I am sure that you are merely exaggerating. We hold the Tri-Wizard Cup and maintain our Quidditch line-up to alleviate us from the tensions of old. The reason why I am discussing this issue with you all," Dumbledore transitioned the conversation to cover the entire table, "Is because as the former Supreme Mugwump my vote holds incredible political weight in the ICW and since I have been reinstated as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, most of the British delegation will prefer to vote the way that I do. I am not infallible as the last year has shown and I would like to know your opinions on the matter before I come to a conclusion on the issue. So I am asking you on what your opinions are on the subject?"

Molly Weasley was the first to hesitantly speak out, "Well if they want to help us to face V-Voldemort then they cannot be all bad?"

Snape swerved into the high lane with a sneer, "That there was no talk of any further cooperation. The French do not want an alliance – they want the extraction treaty. It is _our _job to negotiate for their help. At most they will station the minimum amount of battle mages as a token force, far from the forces that we need to overcome the influences of the Dark Lord."

"Don't be biased Severus, any help is better than none," Remus added his own two pence into the argument.

"But at what cost?" Alastor asked sending the table into quiet murmurs as everybody discussed the issue with those closest to them, Tonks making a show of turning her back to him, evidently still not over their bizarre talk from earlier.

"Perhaps we need the opinion of one younger who can see with greater insight that which we have overlooked? Harry what do you think about this French request that has come out of nowhere?" Dumbledore asked, eyes twinkling at full power.

The headmaster knew that he had escaped from France… or if he didn't know then he at least guessed as much. A cold ice shiver spread down his spine as he understood that this entire meeting had been called to gauge his opinion on the matter, to tell the headmaster the link that he was missing from his consideration. The rest had been there to make them feel like they were somehow influencing his decision but Dumbledore's mind was already made. It was his job to tip the balance one way or another. He wondered if this was the headmaster's way of apologizing for keeping the prophecy away from him for so long. He eliminated that kind of thought. He did not want to even consider that the headmaster was possible of such a sick joke indeed.

"They're after me," he whispered but somehow the whole room grew quiet, perhaps helped by the morose tone of his voice.

"Whose after you Harry," the headmaster asked, the twinkle in his eye gone as if it had never been there.

"The French Ministry of Magic," he whispered again, not sure what would become of his voice if he tried to speak at a higher octave, "I do not know what they want me for but this is not the first time that they have tried to kidnap me. I slipped past their fingers, now they want to come to Britain to take me legally. They want me headmaster and I have no idea as to why."

Dumbledore's eyes scrunched up, "None at all?"

"None," he lied, the image of the auror that had lost his head to the automobile car clear on his mind.

The headmaster grimaced in turn. "I see. This is a most grave matter indeed. The French have ulterior motive it seems, why, they could become Voldemort's greatest ally if we let them into our country! We need to deal with this issue quickly and silently. I would request that everybody attending this meeting keep its contents a most grave secret before the results of the negotiations are officially out in several months' time. Are we then all in agreement that this motion should not be allowed to pass?"

Agreement was voiced by the adults, Snape even sporting a rare smile that creeped him out as the motion passed and discussion moved onto more miscellaneous matters. He thought his mind would explode when Kingsley started discussing increased export taxes in relation to a stronger galleon only to be saved by the most unlikeliest of sources. Elphias Doge leaned over to shake his hand, his blue eyes wild as he exclaimed that they were surly saving Wizarding Britain with this decision. It proved enough of a distraction to make the rest of the conversation sound like gibberish allowing him to rest his tired head on the back of the wooden stool as the discussion went through its natural course.

It was not long after that the meeting was held to a close and everybody rose to depart to celebrate the Christmas Celebrations, most heading with them to the Burrow. On the way out he accidently caught Tonks's cool eyes. She indicated for him to come to her with her finger. He ignored her and continued on under Mrs. Weasleys patronage that hulked over him like a protective dragon as she worried about every minor detail including his now apparent stay in France. They left the house with Mr. Weasley at the helm chatting animatedly over Ministry goings on with an elderly looking Order member whose name he failed to remember expect that he was another of Dumbledore's old friends, Mrs. Weasley chirping in whenever necessary and admonishing her husband for him taking so long to get to a safe enough distance from where they could apparate from.

An invisible hand suddenly pinched his buttocks throwing his balance off enough to have him faceplant into the snow. He jumped a foot into the air before turning a molten red when the adults turned to regard what the trouble was. He could swear that he heard muffled giggles in the air. He was going to skewer that metamorphmagus.

"Harry, dear, is everything alright? You look a little too red?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she tested his forehead with the palm of her hand.

"I'm fine Mrs. Weasley," was all that he could stammer out as he became fond of staring at the monotone asphalt underfoot.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Molly?" Mrs. Weasley scolded him and dragged her hand through his hair absent-mindedly, "All over the place as usual. Well we are apparating now Harry and since you have apparated here by yourself I wanted to ask if you needed help getting back to the Burrow?"

"No Mrs. Weasley," he stammered, "It's fine, I think I can get there on my own."

Mrs. Weasley looked at him as if he had just graduated Hogwarts with straight O's on his NEWTS, "Well we better be off then. After three."

He counted internally to three before imagining the Burrow, the smell of the morning breakfast, the chuckles of mischievous garden dwarves that hid in the garden and the scent of tea drifting out of a cosy little window. He willed himself to be there with Ron and the others. He wanted – _needed_ to be there. As he began to feel his body getting squeezed into the tubule of teleportive travel; he felt a gentle, feminine hand slide into his own.

Before he could react, the misbalance caused his eyes to pop and his ribs to crunch underneath the pressure as he was thrown against the roof and sent catering amongst the winds. His legs dangled in the crisp winter air, his body managing to hold on to the tiles by his sheer fingertips. An invisible hand helped pull him up alongside some silently cast magic. He laid down, twisting this way and that to pressure the cramps out of his bones. So this is what side-apparating with another person felt like... never again.

"That is what you get for ignoring me. Nobody ignores me," Tonks hissed, dragging his immobile form further from the edge.

"You… sick woman," he coughed out, certain that he saw his own guts coming out of his throat.

"Oh don't be melodramatic. That was nothing. If anything you now have practice for the future. That reminds me…" Tonks trailed off as his stomach settled in his hips.

A flurry of movement found him being suddenly turned onto his bruised abdomen as he was pushed off the roof of the _building_! He screamed his remaining guts out, only stopping when he came mere inches short of colliding with the ground. Tonks appeared by his side, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "Never call me Nymphadora again."

He nodded his head fervently before he was finally released from the spell and fell down unceremoniously onto the ground, his forehead colliding with the chilling snow. He could hear footsteps walking away and knew that this was supposed to mean that he was on his own now and to get a move on. He groaned in frustration as he lifted himself up slowly – sore just about everywhere in his body – and walked with a short step up to the entrance of the Burrow before giving a brief knock. The door practically flew open and Mrs. Weasley engulfed him in one of her infamous hugs that knocked out all of the wind out of him again.

"Oh you poor dear! You had us all worried! What took you so long?"

He waited a moment to collect some of his depleted breath, "I accidently apparated at the edge of the property and had to hike my way all the way over."

Seemingly relieved at his unalarming explanation and that he hadn't lost a limb along the way, she finally let him go, "Then off you go young man. The kids have been fervently awaiting your return."

"Yes Mrs. Weasley" he said before he high-tailed it out of the hallway, up the stairs and then finally into the room that he shared with Ron, rubbing his sore buttocks all along the way.

He threw open the door to his strangely barren bedroom, shaking away the feeling when he remembered hearing the voices coming from the kitchen. He took off his robes leaving him in normal clothes, his top soon joining his robes as he got ready to enjoy a long, hot shower after being forced to suffer Tonks's ire throughout the day's events.

"Harry –" Ginny's sentence stopped short when she barged into the room unannounced.

"What do you want Ginny? Did you forget how to knock?" he asked, tiredly covering himself.

Ginny's words fought through the sudden onslaught of pink complexion that assaulted her face, "I – I just wanted to apologize… for earlier. It –"

"Ginny," he interrupted her, throwing his shirt back in the pile to her further embarrassment, "Leave. I am too tired for this. I need a shower."

"But Harry –" He slammed the bathroom door in her face.

The warm water cascaded down his chest, bringing his hair into order by washing away all of the stuck ice that had been hard at work in converting his scalp into a winter wonderland covered in hair trees. The shower ended before it started. The room was thankfully empty when he came out. Soon he was done bringing himself into order and it was a refreshed Harry who was no longer suffering from hypothermia that descended down the stairs to join the celebrations happening in the Burrow's kitchen.

If it wasn't for the occasional drawn-out saucy wink given on the sly, he would have been convinced that Nymphadora Tonks wanted to kill him. She kept palming her knife, choosing to take the seat directly across from him at the table overfilled with Weasley and Order member alike. The evening found them laying siege to the kitchen with the Christmas celebrations in full swing. Ron sat on his right but he was too busy arguing with the twins over the Chuddly Cannons to notice the very real danger a mere hair's breadth away from snapping. He wondered what her problem was that the usually fun metamorphmagus was so snappy today.

As if summoned, Remus sat beside Tonks with Hestia Jones on his other side but his eyes were only for him. "If I were still your Professor pup I would be forced to give you detention seeing the atrocious amount of time that you are free to spend with your lunar uncle!"

Sirius used to call him pup... It was alarming to realise that he had died in the hospital only two days ago. So much had changed in that time that he simply hoped that he hadn't been traumatised by the experience although judging by his strict avoidance of even looking at the watermelons that hope was hopeless to hold. Why couldn't he have a single, normal year? This madness was what had pushed him to the tower in the first place and Merlin he did not want to attempt anything like that again.

"Harry..." Remus's voice brought his conscience out of the void where the Warp Gods corrupted everything they touched, "I doubt anyone noticed at the meeting, even so Harry where is your scar?"

He spoke slowly, trying to not reveal anything unnecessary with so many ears at the table, "I don't know. I was unconscious for a long time and when I awoke, it was gone. I can't tell you what really happened since I don't remember it myself. It just… disappeared."

"Remarkable," Remus said, his flitting eyes informing him that if circumstances were different then he'd be examining his scar much more closely, "This is quite an adjustment to get used to I imagine but remember Harry, the only thing that we can be certain of in life is change. On the topic of change, have you met our beautiful Hestia Jones before?"

"Yeah we met," he found himself nodding, "She came to the Dursleys as part of my guard last year. How did_ you _two meet?"

"It's quite the story pup," Remus chuckled before he started to tell him of how Hestia had accidentally unleashed the terror that was Walbruga Black at one of the Order's meetings and he was the closest around to to block the sound of Walbruga's screeching by the retractable curtain. The incident led them to talking where they found out how much they had in common. Eventually conversations turned more frequent before devolving into a straight out romance spiralling into what it was today.

"And what are you today?" Tonks inquired, not making eye contact as she kept her eye on the wine goblet to which she kept adding the longer that Moony talked.

"You'll have to ask her that," Remus pointed out the black haired female of a petite nature that seemed to radiate goodness from every pore of her body.

Hestia sat on Lupin's other side but at the mention of her name she turned to give him a playful scowl that somehow did not diminish her radiant attitude, "Are you talking about me behind my back?"

Remus gave a comforting smile, his freehand that wasn't holding a fork coming out to hold her by the waist, "No dear. I was just telling young Harry here about you."

"Then be sure to mention that we might be seeing each other closer in the future," Hestia regaled him with an equally radiant smile that stole his breath away before returning to her conversation with Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes Harry, about that… I didn't know when to tell you however given your recent reappearance I think I should come clean with you," Remus grabbed Hestia's left hand, lifting it up to show him an emerald ring that stood out against his Christmas sweater's long sleeves, "I would appreciate it if you didn't mention it to the others but we have decided to tie the knot so to speak and well – we will be announcing our engagement after dinner. I wanted you to be the first to hear about this as hopefully his future godfather. What do you think about that pup?"

He could only gaze at Remus, his mouth wide open, "Wow... that is… _amazing_! Why didn't you tell me sooner Moony you old dog! Of course I will be his godfather!"

Tonks stiffened from beside Lupin where she was deathly silent. All of the commotion brought Mrs. Weasleys gaze to them where she quickly spotted the emerald ring. Her gasp brought the attention of the whole table on them. "You're getting _MARRIED?!_"

A flood of congratulations flooded the table as Mr. Weasley waved his wand to change the overhead banner to include a part about an engagement party as well. The festivities renewed with vigour, special focus given to the couple where guests crowded around to look at the ring and gossip about the wedding. The only person that appeared to have been negatively affected by the announcement was Tonks. She drowned herself in wine, long having abandoned the goblet. When the bottle too was empty she stood up, not saying a word to the couple as she made her way outside. Ron gave him a knowing glare but he couldn't stop his feet from moving, Ginny's carefree laugh at one of the twin's antics only serving to speed up his footsteps.

He opened the door to come face to face with Percy Weasley about to knock on the door. He was not sure which one of them more was surprised by the other until he noticed who Percy had come with. It was the new Minister of Magic. Scrimgeour gave him a predatory smile, gently directing him to the side with a, 'exactly who I was looking for' while Percy proceeded to go on inside the Burrow. The minister did not let up, trying to convince him to support the ministry's corrupt ideology every way that he knew how. His anger took the better of him and soon the minister was seen departing, fuming at his heels. By that time it was too late to do anything, Tonks was gone. Now he would never understand what Ron had meant by staying away from her.

He cursed, kicking a stone that collided with a _clang_ with some poor gnome's head. He breathed uneasily, morally getting himself ready to re-enter the Burrow when he felt a set of foreign eyes tracking his every movement. He moved through the dead of the night, approaching the place where he thought he had seen movement but his steps faltered when he came to the edge of the wards. He was sure that there was something out there, waiting for its opportunity to strike. The ghost of his holly wand found its way into his grip, its absence hurting him more than he would care to admit.

"Who is there?" he yelled, looking into the face of darkness only to have the darkness gaze back at him.

He turned around, ready to head back when a red spell splashed against the rim of the wards sending him leaping to the side. He ran for the Burrow, tripping over his own feet twice in his hurry to get help. A terrible screech echoed throughout the night. It felt like bits of freezing glass were flushed down his spine as he realised that the wards have failed. He leapt to the side, a hail of different tri-coloured spells crashing into the ground sending cracks to split apart the earth. Dancing flames rose from the field nearby while black smoke drifted around the rickety house, spells flying from their midst as the Order members piled out of the house to defend the Burrow from the incursion.

His blood rush filled his ears with murder as he heard what was undeniably Bellatrix's laugh. He picked himself up, dashing into the fields with abandon, all thoughts of safety at the Burrow long forgotten as he sought out Sirius's killer. At a moment's notice he threw himself against the ground as a sickly green spell raced above his head. He didn't have his wand. What was he thinking? Bellatrix laughed again as he spotted her white hair and dark eyes with badly applied make-up as she appeared for a moment out of the black clouds before she floated deeper into the fields. She had been holding something ginger in her arms. He picked himself up and gave chase.

Ducking under another two spells, he jumped onto the back of one of the materialized Death Eaters with a scar-ridden face that had been throwing fireballs in the direction of the Burrow. He wrestled with him, squeezing at his neck and redirecting the short wand away with his elbow. The panicked Death Eater struggled against the sudden attack before he found his neck twisted to the side with a _crack_. Obviously no one had told the spawn of evil that turning your neck sharply in a headlock could be suicidal. He let go off the body with a wince before picking up the wand and stumbled to where he had seen Bellatrix depart.

He stopped in a small clearing as he saw Bellatrix flying with a wand held to the neck of who he could now make out to be Ginny. He raised the Death Eater wand and desperately shouted out, "_Accio Ginny"._

The wand overpowered the spell tenfold as Ginny was ripped out of the dark witches arms and flung towards him. He caught Ginny in his arms before being thrown to the ground from the sudden influx of weight. Shoving off the startled and panicked Ginny as gently as he could, he readied his wand and looked up. A hastily pulled up '_Protego_!' saved him from a blood-to-acid curse that broke harmlessly across his overpowered shield. Seeming having enough from running away, Bellatrix materialized not ten yards from him, her long wand held loosely in a duelling position.

"Why if it isn't masters favourite boy-toy. I thought you would know better than to follow me after I killed that dog –"

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Bellatrix Lestrange waved her wand and caught the spell before redirecting it back at him. The shield buckled under the power of his own spell.

"Tsk, tsk. I thought you improved your spell choices Potter. How wrong I was," she drawled out.

She twirled her wand again and without intending to, his body fell into a bow. He strained against the spell that had somehow bypassed his shield but he couldn't break the lock. When he could finally lift his head, it was only to find Bellatrix sheer inches away from is face, her hand reaching out to pull up his chin as she looked over some perceived flaw on his face.

"You were there when the Dark Lord was resurrected. Tell me – how did it feel?" she clawed at his chin, the tip of her wand piercing his throat but not daring to interact with the still active _Protego _that held her magic at bay, "How did it feel to see your parents murderer come back to life? How did it feel to see your little friend die in front of your eyes?"

He finally broke the hold of the spell as he leaned backwards and raised his wand, "_Reducto!"_

Bellatrix didn't move at all as her shimmering magic shield harmlessly dissipated the spell. She gave him a smile that would haunt his dreams as she raised her wand for another spell.

"_Bombarda_!" Ginny's voice rang out.

Bellatrix was saved only by a prior incantation as she went flying off into the field from the force of the spell. He readied his wand as he huddled near Ginny, prepared for Bellatrix to come out at any moment. Bellatrix finally stepped out of the shadows.

"Harry! Ginny!" yelled out voices as he could hear heavy footsteps dashing towards them.

Bellatrix gave a scowl as she looked from where the voices were coming from before making eye-contact with him, "So long Potter. We _will_ meet again"

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Ginny shot off another spell but it was in vain as Bellatrix had already apparated out.

Moments later he could feel the wards of the Burrow reassert themselves. This explained her hasty retreat given that she would have been plainly able to beat them both quite easily with her eyes closed.

"Harry! Ginny! Are you alright?" Remus shouted as he ran into the clearing, his eyes trained on the area around them, the twins and surprisingly Percy Weasley following in his wake with their wands drawn.

"We are alive" he nodded to Moody's relief.

"We were ambushed by Bellatrix" Ginny added.

Lupin's eyes hardened, "Where is she?"

"She disapparated, we were lucky" he said as Percy examined the ground while the twins stood vigilant, their mirth long gone leaving behind two highly creative and dangerous wizards.

"Good let's get you two to safety then." He hesitated as they started to leave. "What is it pup? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"Before I saved Ginny, I came upon a Death Eater. His corpse is somewhere in the fields. I took his wand," he muttered, mind lost as he showed them the short wand that he had taken from the ground after the sudden and vicious fight.

"Keep it for now," Remus said, helping to pick him from the ground, "The aurors will retrieve his body later. Let's get you to safety now. Molly has been worried sick about you both."

They walked back to the Burrow with Ginny leaning on him, her head probably still winded from the _Accio_. Soon they were at the burning Burrow set aflame in emerald and chromatic flames, the headmaster and the shivering new minister standing at its foot with scores of aurors combing through the property and putting out the cursed flames, Christmas dinner long forgotten. A team of mediwizards were crowding around a body. It lay still, horizontal to the Burrow and devoid of any movement that might have suggested that it was alive in the first place. The cold and blue fingers were clutched around a wine goblet. The body of a frail, thin woman dressed in a jacket and skirt lay motionless on the ground.

Remus's eyes lost any sort of feeling and his grip turned iron as he reined in his attempts to dash forward, "Let me go Remus!"

Finally he grasped himself out of his grip and got himself to Tonks's side. The mediwizards looked forlorn, the sparrows cawed and the house that was his second home burned in the fiery embers of the cold winds. He collapsed by her side. The soft admonishments of the mediwizards fell on deaf ears as he didn't dare take his eyes off of her gaunt face, imagining a thousand ways in which it would crack a smile or a joke or anything – absolutely anything other than this frozen reality that no time turner could fix. Tonks was dead. Tonks was… dead.

** _Next Up: The Lunar Piper_**


	6. The Lunar Piper

_Chapter 6: The Lunar Piper_

* * *

Harry's eyes glazed past the rolling landscape that rolled across the Scottish Highlands, every hill greener and wilder than the one before. The Hogwarts express rolled along the magically enhanced tracks as it did every year while Ron and Hermione bickered about the absurdity of the Quibbler even though Luna, Ginny and Neville were long gone, having been drawn out by the mischievous Weasley twins along with swathes of others, to a demonstration of their latest products, as they used the train ride for its free advertising potential before they reached Hogsmeade.

His non-stop insights into the countryside yielded no results apart from Tonks's gaunt face passing him by, pursuing him in the clouds. He knew that she wasn't dead, not technically anyways considering that the dark curse had left her in critical condition when she was ambushed before the front door. She should be dead. Instead she had escaped by the breadth of a hair, her body now confined to the same ward that was occupied by Neville's parents. Fitting considering that it had been said that her chances at recovery were about the same.

He had provoked the Death Eaters to attack. He had doomed Tonks to death. His finger trailed over the faint scratches over his left hand, near invisible to the naked eye. At least everyone else was alive. If anyone else had been seriously hurt too or, Merlin forbid, had died… he didn't think he could live with himself after that. The train gave a jolt and he let the fabric of his robes fall down over his arms in surprise as they started to lose speed while going through a bend in the tracks.

"We will be at Hogwarts soon," Hermione whispered breathlessly as if she couldn't believe in that herself before turning back to Ron, "No Ron, you're a prefect! You know that it's against the rules!"

"I don't see what's so wrong with a couple of midgets doing our work for us?"

"Ronald! Language!" At least they weren't arguing over their love interests anymore. That had gotten real old, real fast.

"Cor mate, where are you going?" Ron asked as he stood up to move past the bickering pair into the outside corridor.

"Just need some fresh air," he replied while Hermione gave Ron a pointed look.

Ron scratched his head, "Call us if you need us mate."

"Sure Ron." He could hear them start to bicker as soon as he closed the carrot-coloured carriage door.

He decided that he would get the most privacy at the back of the express and promptly headed towards the end of the line. After he arrived at the end without too much hassle and fangirling, he found the door to be locked to the outside but nothing that a simple _Alohomora _couldn't solve. The fresh air assaulted his senses and in that moment he was glad that the train ran on the basis of magic as there was no pillar of black smudge to stand out against the darkening sky.

Vast, empty fields stretched into the distance; covered by snow and ice. Deciduous trees stood barren and gnarled, their branches stretched and twisted from holding immense swathes of snow within their twigs, ready to let loose a proverbial avalanche at a moment's notice. Small sparrows jumped from tree to tree, nipping at what was left alive after the snows before moving on, never coming back to the same place twice. It was calm, peaceful... quiet even. His shaking hands gripped the railing. This was nice.

The door behind him slid open. "Aren't you cold?"

He didn't turn around as he continued to regard the flora that they were passing by and how he had just never had the time before to admire it. Growing up in suburban Little Whinging hadn't made the countryside a common sight and he found himself to be beset by wanderlust that had first struck him when he had mounted the first year boat from which he had first gazed upon Hogwarts's glorious walls and towers jutting out as if fishing lines protruding from a wide pond.

"... saving me. Harry? Are you alright?" He could do it. Do it right now. All he needed to do was take a wrong step and it would be the end of the facade. "Harry?"

"I'm fine," he said flatly, still eyeing that oddly inviting drop.

"Fine?" he could feel Ginny putting her hands on her hips.

"Fine," he reinnervated as he peered at the short but painful drop, bound to break his legs at the least.

She grabbed his shoulder before suddenly flinching back. "You're freezing Harry!" She began to drag him away from the rail, his pale hands refusing to let go, frozen solid with the bar.

Barty Crouch Junior was probably laughing in his grave, spilling drinks with the Death Eater and the French Kidnapper that he had killed off over the holes. Another image flashed by of Sirius disapprovingly stating that dying could not be the answer to all of his problems.

"Harry! Let's go!" Ginny tugged at his hand once more, trying to drag his immobile form inside.

He let go and turned around to Ginny's pleading face before leaning in. Ginny stilled which was all that he had needed as a wordless _confundus _hit her in the chest. Her eyes became dazed as she blinked several times over. "You were going to see Dean Thomas," he said in an emotionless voice as he continued to observe the symbiotic relationship between him and nature over the confines of the rails.

"Oh yeah... sorry Harry. I... I have to go," Ginny bolted the door behind her as she hurried off, forgetting her reason for confronting Harry at the back of the train to begin with.

He sighed and brought up his first foot onto the rail, pushing himself upwards and grabbed onto the ledge of the train before tenaciously pulling himself up onto the train's roof. He didn't dare stand for he would surly tumble right off the roof given the pace that the Hogwarts Express was going at. He instead crawled amidst the multi-layered snow towards the middle of the last cart and dropped down onto his back, the undisturbed snow keeping him wedged in place.

He lay there until the sun set on the horizon and the half-hidden moon slithered out in silver glory amidst the cover of the clouds. The Hogwarts express didn't falter as it steamed on ahead through the light and darkness at the same pace until finally with a concluding '_Choot!' _the wheels lost their momentum and the train ground down to a halt at the connecting platform in Hogsmeade whose amber lights shone feverishly bright above the light snow.

Stampeding footsteps numbering in the hundreds made headway for the thestral-drawn carriages to get to the castle. Once the footsteps grew absent, he lifted himself up. It was time to go. He slid down the side of the train and plopped down onto the snow-covered floor of the platform before casually dusting himself off and setting out for the carriages himself. When he made his way there, all that awaited his eyes was but a single carriage in which sat a peculiar blonde that still baffled Harry to this day.

Luna closed the Quibbler with a huff before she covered her head with her beanie to protect herself from the lightly falling snow, "Must you always be so inconvenienced by the train ride to Hogwarts Harry? You could at least have warned me that the wrackspruts were trying to influence your mind."

He tried to find the needed words with his ice-laden tongue, "Sorry Luna. I – you didn't have to wait for me."

"What nonsense Harry! Would you have walked all the way to Hogwarts then?" He shrugged his shoulders as he sat down next to Luna on the frozen bench. "Well then... get out Harry!"

He stared at her in bewilderment. "What?"

"Get off the carriage Potter!"

"But –"

"Now!"

He stepped uncertainly down the steps with Luna pushing him on before she directed him towards the thestrals. The thestrals were peaceful beasts with manes blending into the shadows cast by the nearby forbidden forest.

"Shoo!" Luna clamped her hand on the thestrals back and they were off... carrying the empty cart towards Hogwarts.

He broke into a dash towards the carriage but he was held back by Luna's grip and her stubbornly planted feet. "What are you doing Luna?! They're going without us to Hogwarts!"

"You wanted to walk to Hogwarts on foot, didn't you Harry?"

"Then why the blazes are you here and not there?!" he exclaimed, pointing at the departing carriage.

"I'm here to keep you company. I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't do that. Besides," her eyes lit up, "It's more fun when there's someone around to discuss the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

He groaned. He could feel his headache starting all over again. There was just no knowing Luna Lovegood. "Fine, lets WALK to Hogwarts then in the middle of the night through a forest where dwell some of the most dangerous creatures known to wizardkind!"

"That's the spirit Harry!" Luna cheered, starting to skip after him as he grumpily marched in the direction of the castle.

All that he had wanted was a bit of peace and quiet. Guess the saying was correct – be careful what you wish for. They continued on the trail; the monotony of their walk being broken by the splutter of bird wings always followed by the howl of some distant nocturnal predator out in search of blood. A nagging question pervaded his reasoning and before he realised it, he was addressing Luna as if they were sitting in some comfy common room instead of wading through knee-deep snow.

"Just out of curiosity, how did you know that I was still on the train?" In response Luna took out her Quibbler glasses that she kept handily in her small bag and waved them past his face. "I should have guessed as much. This makes this the second time this school year that you've found me on the train when no one else could and the second time that we're walking to Hogwarts together. I hope that this isn't going to turn into some morose tradition at this point where we stalk each other in a bi-yearly game of find Harry's immobile body on the train."

"It's not stalking if it works," Luna hummed, bringing him out short until he realised that she was simply pulling his leg.

He joined her side once again. "If anyone else knew that Looney Lovegood had a sense of humour they would piss themselves solid in this weather."

Luna smirked, the first noticeable reaction that she had shown his words, "Then let it stay our secret."

They continued trudging through the snow, Luna humming what was supposed to be an uplifting tune that he could make neither heads nor tails of. He decided to ignore it, focusing on his steps so that he would not end up falling on his face on the slippery ice. It did not take them long from there to pass the gates separating Hogwarts from Hogsmeade where the road would lead them through the clearing that passed through the least dense part of the forbidden forest. Last time that he and Luna walked along these tracks they hadn't talked much but here they were, dragging their feet in the territory of some of the foulest monsters in wizarding Scotland for a second time in a row. Sounded like the perfect date now that he thought about it. 'Maybe Luna was really stalking me afterall,' he laughed to himself.

"What's so funny?" Luna snapped, perhaps finally realising what a poor idea this had been.

"You never cease to amaze me," he sighed and that seemed to alleviate some of her mood, the bounce returning to her step. They trudged on and on and on. One foot after the other after the other. It seemed to him that their walk would never end.

"What were you doing up there? On top of the carriage"

"Me?" he asked, "I was just having a bit of peace and quiet after all that had happened over the past year. Voldemort coming back, Death Eaters, Malfoy and his kin, those stupid Frenchmen out for my blood..."

"What do the French have to do with all of this?" Luna asked innocently as she based her eyebrows in a way that looked completely ridiculous on her.

"Nothing. Just a slip of the tongue," he grinned.

Luna brought on her puppy face in order to charm the answers right out of him, she was quite cute when she was like this and he felt his resolve breaking, not that it had been steadfast to begin with. "_Please_. It's not as if I could tell anyone and if I did, nobody would believe me."

"Listen closely then…" He didn't know what madness befell him but seeing Luna's face light up the way it did soothed out his soul. As they drifted along to the stone base of their mutual home, his voice carried into the wilds as he imitated out what had happened since he had left Hogwarts last to Luna's shrieks of delight and horror, but most prominently of all her gasps of grief at every turn of his misfortune. They were perhaps three-quarters of the way through when he had finished telling her an abbreviated and condensed version of the general events of the past two weeks of his life, stopping at the attack on the Burrow.

"Remember Luna, not a word to _anyone._"

Luna fervently nodded her head, pushing his robes up and down from where she had hidden her head from the falling snows that left him half-blind even with his glasses on, using Luna as a navigational tool while he provided the cover that they needed to push through the influence of the winter storm.

"So… how was it?" He felt her grin more than saw it.

"What do you mean Luna?" he asked, shielding his eyes with his left hand while giving his right hand the opportunity to warm up under the protection of the school robe.

"Fleur silly. How was your _mon cherie_ in bed?"

"Luna! I did not sleep with anyone! Why does everybody assume that I shagged her? All of you are ridiculous, our relationship is purely platonic. Heck if not for Ginny then my winter would have been entirely bereft of romance altogether although that might have been for the better."

"I was just playing with you Harry," Luna's voice calmed him down before it set him off again, "But you would have liked to sleep with her wouldn't you?"

Luna shrieked when he pushed her aside from her warm cover, exposing her to the cold as he started pelting her with snowballs. "No... please... Haaary… stooop! _It's cold_!"

"That's what you get for making fun of me!" he threw another one. "If the cold bothers you so much then use a warming charm! You're a witch for Merlin's sake."

Luna looked guilty as she answered, tensing up to dodge his next throws, "I already am!"

He stopped; his face dumbfounded. "So all of this time I've been walking with my ears threatening to fall off because my own charm is failing and you had a charm on and still wanted to steal my body heat?! Luna, I thought we were friends!"

Luna gave a small, nervous whine that was uncharacteristic of her, "But it's still cold Harry! If you want I can renew the charm on you."

"About time," he muttered under his breath, secretly glad for the warmth washing over him but outwardly remaining mad at Luna for negating him for so long when she was the only one with a normal wand. "Think we will be in time for the welcoming feast?"

Luna's teeth chattered as she sought cover by his side once more, the words coming out all dislodged and hurried, "Probably not. Ginny was convinced that you had fallen off the train and they dispatched a team of aurors and a lot of the teachers under Dumbledore to search the tracks for you."

His feet ground to a halt once more, "WHAT?! Luna you've got to start telling me the important information when I can actually do something about it. What do you mean that I am _missing_?"

Luna continued to shiver against his side and he restarted their pace so that she could gain at least some heat through movement. Now that they were walking once more, Luna spoke, "She came to our compartment where we were all gathered with a blank look in her eyes before she was shaken out of it by Hermione and the only word that she repeated after that was 'Harry'. Since you keep disappearing, the staff on the train had no issue in believing you were gone and soon the train was searched and you were not found. Ginny showed signs of being under a _Confundus _charm and so they thought that you were stolen away by some foreign entity – most likely the Death Eaters. No one even considered that you were taking a nap on the roof of a train. If the train hadn't been infused with warding magic, the scrying spells would have found you but they didn't so now you're missing and everybody's searching for you. In fact everybody left the train so fast because there were rumours of Death Eaters flying in pursuit. Perhaps someone tipped them off that you were missing?"

"Malfoy," he groaned into the back of his hand. If he could start battles by taking naps then what would sleep lead to? He was eerily reminded of the two French aurors or whomever they were that had ambushed him in bed. Yeah... sleep was no longer his forte. "Why didn't you tell me sooner Luna? And how did you find me when no one else could?"

"I saw you with my glasses when I left the train carriage and nobody would listen since all the grown-ups were on the tracks so I decided to take care of you myself. I just didn't imagine that it would be so c-c-cold."

"Hold on Luna, we're nearly there," he said as his eyes trailed past the forest cover.

It would not do to be ambushed by acromantula in this ragged weather though knowing them, they were the first to retreat to the cover that the underground offered once the first snows fell. The idea of snow spiders kept him on alert nevertheless while Luna directed through the last mile or so to the castle which remained hidden beneath the intense Scottish hail. The entrance doors groaned open with a sigh of relief as they shuffled through, Luna hugging the walls for warmth while he rubbed his hands and applied the generated heat to his numb face.

Luna's hair was a mess which she quickly fixed along with a few simple charms until there were no imperfections left from her normal appearance, this time making sure to treat him to the same treatment until they both stood perfectly normal in an otherwise abandoned entrance hall, all traces from trudging through dirty snow gone from their appearance. They entered the Great Hall only to find a smattering of students there with no food presented for consumption. Apparently the start of term feast had been cancelled which left them to the task of deciding what to do with their time.

"Should we head then for our dorms or somewhere else? I don't exactly fancy being berated by Mione or Ron right about now," he stated, feeling slightly lost without the usual routine of Hogwarts life.

Luna gained her thinking look with her eyes becoming dreamy. "Are you feeling peckish because I could do with a bite to eat."

He sighed in relief, "That sounds right old jolly. To the kitchens we go."

They descended down near the Hufflepuff quarters where milling students gave them inquisitive looks that they ignored outright. Coming to the fruit painting after ensuring that they were not being followed, he tickled the pear that shuddered beneath his fingers, allowing the painting to swing open and admit them entrance into Hogwarts's kitchen. This was perhaps the warmest part of the castle and just because the feast had been cancelled didn't mean that the elves went without work. Floors were dusted, food preserved and laundry made as the house elves of Hogwarts ran the show behind the scenes to make learning magic as comfortable as possible.

The elves had not noticed them yet given how busy their workload was today of all days. Nevertheless Luna held him at bay as she rummaged in her satchel for some kind of long object that she took out and brought to her lips. Sweet music began to fill the chamber, quickening hearts and minds as the house elves left everything that they were doing and swayed on the spot, slowly hobbling over to congregate around them. Luna began moving, hopping on one foot and then another until it began uncovering urges in him that nabbed at his mind but which the elves followed without question until there was a line composed of a hundred elves all following the leader wherever she would go, hopping on one foot and then the other in an elven version of the conga.

"How are you doing that Luna?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Oh its easy," Luna stopped playing to talk to him, the trance ebbing out of the elves as they shook themselves out of their stupors, "It's a magic flute attuned to domesticated creatures which sets them in a trance allowing you to reduce their stress levels or direct them where they need to go. You can attune them to many things really but usually it's almost impossible to lure in complicated creatures so it's not often used on humans or on creatures such as sloths since they are _really _lazy."

One of the house elves tugged on Luna's robe to grab her attention. "What did little missie do to us elves that we cannot remember? Did we fall asleep?"

"No," Luna smiled, bending down to pat the house elf on the head, "You're perfectly alright. Me and Harry just thought that you were a little stressed so we decided to give you some energy to help you with your workday."

"Thank you missie," and the elf really did look thankful as well as those around him, "What would you like in the kitchens?"

Luna looked at him before looking at the two hundred listening ears, "Oh some food that we could take with us. Nothing fancy like at Slughorn's party I think. Just a basket of ordinary food for two ordinary friends."

The elves rushed to work, grumbling with each other who would get the privilege to serve the nymphie as they called Luna. It didn't need to be stated that the choice of nickname sobered the smile from his face right off. Luna flitted in-between the elves, asking for some notable additions while he stood of to the side with his hands held in a crossguard, fingernails scraping the skin through his robes while the oblivious Luna hopped to attention beside him carrying a magically charmed wicker basket that carried more food than its form would otherwise suggest.

"Since I wanted to go to the kitchen where do you want to go to eat?" Luna asked him as they left the kitchens.

"I don't think I'm hungry anymore Luna," he replied tersely, his right arm itching like mad with a thin tendril of blood sticking the hair to the robe bringing him even greater pain that he attempted not to show.

Luna pouted, "But we've made it so far. We might as well eat. Did you know that an empty stomach only increases the chance for nightmares to occur? I think I might know a place that will rid you of the wargle infestation that you managed to develop while Santa's helpers were wrapping up our food."

He indicated for her to take the lead, wincing when the house elves bade goodbye to the nymphie. Since his good left hand carried the basket, Luna took him by the right hand eliciting a quiet hiss that he hoped went unnoticed that she used to lead him through several hidden passages. some of which even he had no recollection of ever using. The passageways twisted and turned, some even going at diagonal slopes which they had to slide down to go upwards to Luna's squealing fun and his shouts of surprise that broke him out of his morose mood.

Eventually he realised that the path led to the top of the astronomy tower that was warded against destructive weather of any kind, the falling hail as well as the noise it caused sliding down an invisible dome to be flung from the top of the tower on those unfortunate enough to be caught below. Here they set up camp, warming charms keeping them warm and toasty while staying in direct contact with the falling snow.

"Hey Luna, shouldn't we send word to the headmaster that they don't have to search anymore?"

Luna waved her hand, instead picking up a sandwich with ham and egg, "No use. By the time you get to your owl to send a message they will already be back. The most that you can do is go to sleep or talk to your friends although I don't think you will be doing most of the talking when it comes to them tonight."

"You're right," he was forced to agree with her sentiment, picking up a sandwich as well, wondering why there were so many French delicacies in the basket.

He took out a chunk of the meat, swallowing the freshly cooked oil on the ham on the insides of his tongue as it slipped down his throat, into his gullet to eventually reach his gurgling gut. He took out another chunk and then another. Soon they were done with an entire container of sandwiches and he didn't remember feeling so full since the last time that he had eaten at Hogwarts.

"See? I told you that eating will make you feel better. It will also make you sleepy so you might escape from your nightmares if you are content tonight."

He gave her a proper smile, "Luna you're a lifesaver."

Luna blushed a bright pink, "I would prefer just being a good friend. I doubt that we would have had this opportunity if you hadn't climbed onto the roof in the first place. Why did you climb up there? You told me about your adventures as much as you're comfortable with but you made no mention of what happened today to cause this."

He lay down on the cobbled floor, his head touching the ground until Luna told him to stop being silly so now he lay with his head on her lap, looking up into the silenced hail that obscured the twinkling stars. "Honestly I am glad that I met you today Luna. Too much is happening to me in too little time leaving me confused as to what I should do or feel. I just needed a time out where I could relax and feel normal again you know? I wouldn't have even gone up if Ginny hadn't apprehended me."

"Oh?" Luna leaned in to where she covered half of the hailstorm, her chest resting above his left eye that he pretended didn't exist, "What did Ginny do that was bad enough to cause you to disappear?"

His face darkened, "It's just… a week and a half ago on Christmas eve we kissed. It came naturally and I thought it meant something. Then she threw a bludger at me with her relationship. She tried to apologize but I had too much on my mind at the time to listen to her properly. I saved her when the burrow was attacked but I have been in so much shock this past week-and-a-half that I locked myself up and barely talked with anyone after my mistake led to Tonks becoming comatose. I think she was trying to thank me for that on the train but it was all too much for me to handle. My brain just went haywire. I needed some time alone so I took it. I confounded her and fell asleep on the roof. The rest you know. I think Ginny might really want something more but I have had enough of my heart getting trampled over. I don't want to be anyone's second choice."

Luna hummed out what sounded like an affirmative, not looking at him but at the dark tinted drink in her glass that she heartily drank up, "I don't think so Harry. You do fancy Ginny. You're simply jealous that she chose someone over you even if only temporarily. I think that you want revenge. You want to make Ginny feel like you did. You want payback."

He thought about it and shook his head, "That would be petty."

"No. That would be human." Luna leaned in, catching him by surprise when her lips fell on his. He didn't react until his brain caught on and he responded slowly, carefully, gently. They parted, Luna taking in a deep breath, leaving behind the smell of wine. "Now see if you can scratch lines into your skin now."

"Luna… you're drunk," he commented, a smile tugging at his lips

Luna swayed in the breeze, "No, why are you always so wrong Harry? I am only tipsy. Not drunk at all!"

"You used the flute to confuse the house elves into giving you alcohol. Luna the rule-breaking underage kisser, I see it now," he laughed his guts out until he was completely red in the face and wheezing himself to death on the cobbled floor. Trust Luna to try helping him out by kissing him while she was drunk.

"Stop laughing! I am not (hiccup) drunk! Your laughing always makes me feel insecure and I never feel insecure! Never! _Harry Potter _stop laughing!"

He continued laughing and even wine being spilled on his face by an enraged Luna didn't stop the smirk on his face, "You've never kissed anyone before right?"

Luna looked flushed, the effects of the alcohol accenting her natural complexion, "Why? Does it matter?"

"I just thought that since you're so concerned with preserving what's left of my sanity that I should repay the favour. I could help you practice snogging –"

Luna did not wait for him to finish his proposal, climbing onto his own lap as her hands clasped themselves around his neck. Their lips met once more beneath the widespread moonlight. He thought for sure that a fairy-tale had come to life given how soft Luna's lips were especially when combined with his own. All other voices faded away until it was just the two of them, the soft drill of voices escaping his notice until it was too late.

"The map shows that he's right here –"

The door leading to the astronomy tower swung open to Ron holding the Marauders Map with Hermione, Ginny and the twins in tow. Their mouths dropped open but he kept his closed. Luna had been right; she had revealed to him his own intentions and he wasn't going to stop now for even though it struck him to the core that what he was doing was wrong, the look of betrayal on Ginny's face was so sweet to savour that he could do nothing but watch as the girl that he had been pining for all year long stormed from the astronomy tower in indignant fury, traces of tears sinking stones to his stomach's pit. Luna left their embrace, obviously satisfied that her plan had worked while he ran a hand through his messy black hair as he thought how best to address his shellshocked friends.

"I can explain…"

**_Next Up: Moonlit Conspiracies_**


	7. Moonlit Conspiracies

_Chapter 7: Moonlit Conspiracies (Leap Day Special)_

* * *

The echo of his footsteps carried forth to announce his presence to the snoring portraits that lined the hallway leading to the headmaster's office. Usually he would wear his invisibility cloak when sneaking around the castle after curfew to avoid detection but today had proven itself to be anything _but _ordinary. Unknown attackers, suspected to be Death Eaters, had tried to ambush the Hogwarts students only to change their plans once they realized that their target had disappeared from the Hogwarts Express. The Order, aided by Ministry Aurors, had targeted the attackers down the length of the tracks while the students calmly got to the safety of the castle as if it was another ordinary school year. He hadn't even known that there had been a battle, all that he had wanted was to get inside the warm confines of the castle after coming to terms that he could not reverse the past. Only Luna had known of his whereabouts. Luna…

He shook his head as he side-stepped a suit of armour a mere moment before he would have crashed into the figure, awakening every portrait in the hallway to flights of fury. Ron and Hermione had given him a piece of their mind for scaring them out of their minds while the twins looked on confused as to why they weren't addressing the Snorkack in the room. Although judging by Ron's balled fists and Hermione's drawn eyes to Luna's timid smile, he was guessing that he would be chewed out about his actions in private. He shivered, the action having nothing to do with the chill blowing in from the stairways.

It'd been preferable to have been yelled at on the astronomy tower, at least then he wouldn't have felt guilty for Luna reaching over to gently nibble on his ear that sent Hermione's face swelling in anger mid-rant until he thought that she was going to explode like a card from exploding snap. They had told him to find Dumbledore before leaving, dragging along Luna to stop distracting him while the latter dug her teeth into her bottom lip. Luna…

He found himself lying sprawled on the floor, muttering curses at the gargoyle that had taken to standing in the middle of the corridor without a care for those too mentally occupied to see its folded wings in the dimmed shadows of the fifth-floor corridor. "I need to see Professor Dumbledore."

The stupid piece of stone responsible for his mild headache leaned its head inquisitively to the side before moving aside, revealing the rising staircase to Dumbledore's office. He knocked three times after ascending to the door, hearing a timid 'Come in!' on his fourth attempt. The wooden door swung open to reveal the headmaster's office, desk filled in odd bits of baubles and trinkets that gave the office its mystical outlook, framed as it was by the many bookshelves that lined the walls seeming to dwarf whoever wished to visit the illustrious room.

It was the aged headmaster however that took the mystical aspect of the room to a whole other level with his eyes glinting like stars from behind his rimmed half-moon spectacles so similar to Harry's own glasses, hiding his blackened arm on his lap as a smile graced his face at his presence, Fawkes's happy trills playing along to the headmasters response, "Harry! I must say that I am relieved to see you doing fine and well! Lemon drop?"

"Umm no headmaster. Ron said that I should visit you as soon as possible."

"Ahh yes, Harry my boy I understand that you've had a most interesting night and your penchant for disappearing has left us, that is those that are consumed for your well-being such as the Weasleys and myself, quite affected with your disappearance. Tell me Harry, where had you disappeared too that we couldn't find you? Did you by any chance apparate into Hogsmeade or did you use an invisibility charm from the restricted section that evades detection?"

"I was just relaxing on top of the train sir."

Dumbledore's twinkle stopped, his glasses climbing so low that they almost fell from the bridge of his crooked nose, "The top of the train? Are you sure my boy?"

"Yes sir, it was packed with snow and it made for an excellent bed."

"Oh so you weren't in any trouble. Good news indeed!" Dumbledore gloated, seeming not to care what he had been doing on top of the train in the first place, "You must understand that we were extremely worried about you young Harry. First the disappearance on your last day before winter break and now disappearing from the Hogwarts Express! We had surly thought that the wards had been compromised and when news of pursuing Death Eaters appearing on the tracks reached my ears we feared the worst but no matter. The Death Eaters have been repelled, the wards have been strengthened all over Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and you are safe.

"You and our fellow students must forgive me Harry but due to today's events the start of the term feast has been cancelled with a short dinner course having already been served upon the student's arrival. If however you are to find yourself famished tonight then you are bound to find out that all common rooms shall be equipped with meals just for this evening to make sure that no one goes to bed hungry. Now that the essentials have been sorted out, I have another thing to discuss with you before I let you go to rest for the night after your adventurous day, although perhaps it is better if I were simply to show you."

Dumbledore's wand brought forth the pensive from its hiding spot, the tip of the wand being used to retrieve a memory strand from a phial before placing it into the pensives silvery depths. They both submerged after an 'After you Harry' to recall a memory concerning one Tom Marvolo Riddle in his childhood quest to stopper death and achieve immortality. He raised his head from the silvery substance in panic to come face to face with an inquisitive Dumbledore.

"Horcruxes?" he whispered hoarsely, remembering the blackened monstrosity that had hid underneath his bench at Kings Cross Station, "He made Horcruxes?"

"It appears so, although we do not know how many he has made. Tom has always had a flare for the dramatic, choosing only the magically strong numbers for his _experiments_. I would venture to suggest that the number should be one, three or seven and since you have already destroyed the diary young Harry and I the stone, I am tempted to believe that there is only one more horcrux left."

Harry shook his head in disbelief, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his head, "You're wrong."

Dumbledore half-mooned spectacles barely sat on their perch, "And why do you think so?"

"Because," he started, "We destroyed three: the book, the ring and the third one inside of me."

Dumbledore's glasses clattered to the floor in surprise. No sooner than he had lost his composure had the great Albus Dumbledore swished his wand for the offending piece of glass to fly back into his hands, cleaning them with a silent _Episkey _before donning them once more, "I am afraid that I do not follow you young Harry."

"I was the third Horcrux headmaster. Sirius said so when I… died."

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead, looking as if he did not want to deal with the revelations that such truths brought in the middle of the night, "That is good news although the fact that you died has me worried far more greatly than you will ever know. I doubt that you will be able to survive another death so do try to be careful Harry before you've at least finished your education, lest you end up hunting nundu in Africa or robbing underwater banks in Sweden or whatever it is that you youngsters do for fun these days. Before we move on, is there anything else that I should be aware of from your previous trip?"

He remembered Fleur with a gulp, "No… uh, sir."

The headmasters eyes twinkled, "No I shouldn't know or no you won't tell me?"

"Both sir."

"Very well." Dumbledore leaned back into his impressive seat, seeming to contemplate his next words before he spoke them, "Then you will be delighted to know that an old friend of yours that is nominally a part of the order has requested to teach you French given the interest that the French Ministry of Magic is displaying toward you. You wouldn't mind attending the extra classes say, once a week? I know that you would rather use it to chat up the lovely Ms. Granger but it is for your own benefit Harry my boy."

His heart thundered in his chest, the words escaping his lips on automatic, "I would be glad to… sir."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled madly, "Something that I should know?"

He regained his senses, sure that his face was burning a bright red, "No."

"Good, then let us hope it _stays _that way considering how insistent the young Delacour was in _teaching _you. Nearly burned my beard off too, I hope that you will be able to reign her in from attempting such foolishness again," Dumbledore sent him a meaningful look that seemed to speak of further understanding than he had let on so far leaving him mortified in his seat as he was left to wonder what else the aging headmaster knew about his female friendships, "Moving on then, I have a task for you that must be completed before we are to meet again. As you have already no doubt deduced, the memory that your potions professor provided is indeed a fake. We need to retrieve the real memory to make sure of the exact number of Horcruxes that we are dealing with here."

He broke out of his stupor. "But how am I to do that when even you couldn't get out his memory!"

A smile flitted past Dumbledore's once again glinting eyes, "Horace so does love collecting prizes. Me he is wary of but _you_… you young Harry are in the perfect position to retrieve the memory. I leave the methods up to you although do try to keep things above the board; afterall, I would rather not have to answer to the board of governors how a sixteen year old student managed to drug the potions professor with veritaserum at my school. Now you must excuse me for the day has left my old bones creaky and in need of some desperate rest. Till we next meet mister Potter."

He left the headmaster's office, head abuzz as he strode towards the Gryffindor common room in the dead of night, his mind buzzing at Dumbledore's unmanageable expectations on retrieving the memory from Horace Slughorn, the French lessons that would bring Fleur back into his life once more and… Luna…

The portrait opened upon receiving the password, allowing him in only for his feet to betray him by stopping once he saw who else occupied the common room. Hermione and Ron were sitting on the couch, their eyes glued to his as he rubbed his collar. Something told him that he wasn't going to like what was going to happen next. He tried to sidestep them to get up the stairs when Ron's firm hand on his shoulder had him looking at the frown marring the face of his best mate. Oh yeah… he was _definitely _screwed.

He shrugged of the hold, climbing two stairs at a time, charming the door shut behind him before he silently swore when Hermione began to undo his charms. Why were girls allowed in the boys dormitories again? He looked around at the sleeping forms of Seamus and Dean, Neville's groggy expression open-mouthed when the boy processed that a murderous Harry was standing above him, unfortunately aware that Neville was clutching his wand underneath his covers.

Cursing at his misfortune and deciding to wipe away all thoughts of Neville from existence, he eyed up his Fireball that sat next to his opened trunk from where the others had gotten his map making nowhere in the castle safe from their ire. Oh what the hell! He wasn't even mad that they went through his stuff given that they were worried over him but this time he needed some time for himself. Grabbing his broom and opening the window for the gusts of wind to shiver everyone inside to death, he threw a lopsided salute in Neville's direction, "Don't tell them where I went and I won't tell them about your sodomy!" before jumping out of the Gryffindor tower, shouting in exhilaration as he finally felt freedom, Neville's heartfelt cry of "I killed Harry Potter!" ringing loud and clear as the door to the sixth year Gryffindor dormitory was finally pried open.

He lazily did a few rounds around Hogwarts castle, staying clear of McGonagall's office that had its lights on even at this late hour before the chill in the air and the snow underfoot reminded him of a person that refused to leave his mind despite not existing in it since after they had went to Slughorn's Christmas party together. He had afterall invited her for a reason. He found himself unable to get rid of her bubbly eyes and ever-present smile from his mind. Luna…

He angled the Firebolt towards Ravenclaw's tower, zooming around as he flitted by the many windows until he recognized Luna's silvery locks shining from where she slept. Opening the window hatch with a quietly intoned _Alohomora_ instead of rapping the glass which could have woken the other girls inside, he sent a brief warming charm to heat up Luna's body before her eyelids crawled open, her silver eyes landing on his figure. "Harry? What are you… doing 'ere –"

He brought his finger up to his lips to shush her before gesturing to the broom, "Want a ride?"

Luna shifted in her bed, unwilling to leave its confines, "But its cold out there."

"Well you know the warming charm better than me so you better get up here or I'll join you down there."

"Oh fine," Luna teetered, shivering in the face of the cool winds entering the window despite the warming charms as he averted his gaze to allow her to get dressed before letting them wonder as she climbed out of the window onto his broom, "Couldn't sleep?"

"Kept thinking about you," he muttered, kicking away from the window with his good foot as they flowed into the winds.

"Aww that is so sweet. C'mon though, tell me the real reason you have to prance around in the middle of the night suffocating your expensive piece of wood half-way to death. Please don't tell me that you are still blaming yourself over Tonks?"

His eyes darkened as he firmly kept his attention on the tip of his broom, "If only I had warned her as I'd made out to do instead of getting distracted by Scrimgeour…"

"Oh Harry," Luna leaned her head on his shoulder causing his heart to double in its attempt to leap out of his chest, "You shouldn't blame yourself for things that you have no control over. Its not good for you, you know?"

"Hermione says the same thing," he laughed, angling them to go around the keeper's hoops where the stands protected them from the worst of the wind.

"Well then maybe she is right," Luna stated against the backdrop of the wind.

"Thanks Luna. You're the best," he whispered back in the dark, meaning every word.

"Be careful there mister Potter. Other girls would think that you're falling for me," Luna giggled into his ear, making him suddenly aware of just how close they were sitting on his broom with no one there to see them.

"Would it truly be so bad?" he asked hopefully, afraid to turn his head.

Luna's sigh practically ripped open his heart, "No, but we both know that it wouldn't be right. You're just confused now that's all. I'm not surprised with all of the stuff that's been happening around you recently not to mention the nargle nest that's settled in your head. I've helped you unleash Ginny's green monster so that she can finally realise her true feelings for you so I think that we're even for that heating charm from the forbidden forest."

He shook his head in amazement, picking up speed as he raced higher as if seeking the snitch. "Luna you are the best friend that a guy could ask for!"

Luna's voice turned timid, fragile as she leant in closer to his waist, "Do you really mean that?"

"Yes!" he yelled as he pulled out a Wronskei feint that saw them drop the length of the Quidditch pitch in a intestine-shifting freefall.

"Harry!" she squealed, holding onto him tighter to not fall at his cries of exhilaration.

They pulled to a stop near the bottom of the pitch, his laughing filling the stadium while her hands furiously cuffed him for being so stupid. His eyes on full-on Dumbledore twinkle mode, he turned around to look at Luna directly for the first time since they had left Ravenclaw's tower. Her breath hitched as his face drew closer but he bypassed her lips in favour of her ear, enjoying the fun that they were having too much to blunder it all in the heat of the moment.

"If you're so sure that it is Ginny that I want then how would you like to help me _really_ get Ginny jealous?"

"Why do you want to go further?" Luna's eyes lost their dreamy quality, arching her eyebrow in the most serious Luna expression that he had ever seen that made him thankful that he was wearing airy robes.

He continued breathlessly whispering into her ear in the middle of the night where only crickets could be heard amid the soft motions of the Firebolt, "It's not so much for me as it is for you. All of those classmates of yours that stole from you will be jealous beyond belief come morning I swear to you that. It'll kill two birds with one stone."

Luna's breath hitched, her eyes staring into his own, "Whatever your plan is, it's bound to be wrong."

He did not let up his impassioned stare, "It would only be human."

Luna closed her eyes, sighing in apparent defeat at him having used her own rhetoric, "What did you have in mind?"

* * *

The morning rays of sunlight penetrated the windows quartered glass to pierce the room in wakeful silence. His eyebrows hitched open to the wafting smell of perfume when all that his body needed was fuel for his growing needs. He shifted, suddenly aware of the small body spooned around his naked torso, his mind unwilling to divulge the secrets of last night. Thankfully the drawn sheets of the four-poster bed were enough to keep the actual rays from torturing his eyes so he decided to bask in the pseudo-darkness until his luck ran out. He watched in horror as the posters shifted as a feminine hand reached out to pull the curtains open.

"Wake up Luna or you're going to miss the first day of… oh…" Nanette Desford's face shifted to be as pink as the rising sun before her emotions caught up to her as she squealed, throwing the curtains shut as quickly as she could.

"C'mon I'm not that bad!" he groaned, holding up his hand to face the sudden onslaught of the light.

"Boy – in Luna's bed – Harry Potter – Eek!" Nanette hyperventilated outside to what seemed to be like a full audience.

He unfolded his hands, stretching as he pulled back the curtains to just where he could face the three other girls in pyjamas, "Hush you. You're going to wake up Luna."

All that did was send the fifth-year girls squealing as they sought cover behind their own curtains as he huffed in irritation. Suddenly a stupendously brave Nanette appeared in his face causing him to glare at the bringer of the light. She kept sprouting nonsense that rolled off her tongue faster than he could understand it before Luna rolled over, her eyes serious even as his gaze fixed on the puppy dog faces with stuck out tongues covering her protruding nipples, "Desford just shut up."

"You've got to teach me that trick," he complained as Nanette's jaw slackened when he began dressing up in his clothes that were strewn across the bottom of the bed.

"Stay. You're warm," Luna brought him back, snuggling against his bare chest as Nanette seemed to suffer a stroke.

"I… I need to… need to," Nanette repeated in a daze as she left the room dressed in only her pyjamas.

Luna's icy eye cracked open, "If that is Nanette's reaction every time this happens then I think that we'll need to do this more frequently Harry."

He smirked, "Get dressed or we're going to miss breakfast!"

"I don't think that we're going to get enough breakfast however fast we get ready today," Luna uncharacteristically grumbled as she was forced out of bed, stretching her arms into the air with a yawn that invariably made him infinitely appreciative of the wizarding choice of fashion, not that it helped him any considering her innocent question, "Want me to help you with that?"

"Luna we just passed out for Merlin's sake! At least that's what I remember, no idea what you did to me in the middle of the night," he mouthed so that the others wouldn't hear them.

"Oh I did enough," Luna teased him, changing her shirt with her back turned to him leaving his breath hitching as he got an eyeful of her bare back and couldn't help himself in imagining what lay on the other side, "Relax, I was just joking. You really need to write daddy about your nargle affliction, I think its starting to affect your good humour. So how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?" he asked, mind still caught up in his imagination.

"You know? Your exit strategy? The walk of shame," the hint of Luna's smile had him reconsidering his affections for the girl while she brushed her hair.

"There is no shame in sleeping with you," he scoffed, noticing that the edge of Luna's smile had transformed into something more genuine. "As to my exit strategy, well there's no point in going down the stairs considering that they'll turn into a slide and I will be trapped in the common room for the ass biting of a lifetime. Guess I'll just have to brave the drop then."

"My Romeo," Luna giggled, finally putting on her robe and turning around to face him, her lips a shining orange that would have looked odd on any other girl but not on Luna.

She leaned in, leaving a wet kiss on his cheek and the bottom of his lip that turned his mind into a soggy mess resulting in the entire logical department going on strike for better protection from all of this haywire activity. He was suddenly aware of all of the nervous giggling happening outside the curtains but he just couldn't be bothered to care, not when Luna was so close to his touch.

He finally got around to working out how to ask an adequate question when Luna's giggles renewed in their intensity at his flabbergasted face, "You grow more mysterious by the minute."

Luna cocked her head, "We can't have you escape unscathed from here so that the others can dismiss this story outright. I was just giving them something to talk about."

"And here I was thinking that you simply liked me," he light-heartedly muttered as he got ready to make a dash for the window.

"Harry?" He turned around only to be assaulted by her supple lips landing on his own. They remained in place, fighting over dominance as Luna all but straddled him in the explosive fireworks show that was his mind. The curtains opened and swiftly closed with an 'eep!' but they ignored it in favour of each other. Finally they were forced to breathe, Luna's nose rested on his own as they stared into each other's eyes. "Convinced yet?"

"Bloody yes," he grinned, springing from the curtains like a robber from the bank into a veritable army of teenage girls to a chorus of 'eeps!' that turned into screams of horror as he leapt from the window of Hogwarts's tower in a freefall, loving the feel of the wind against his skin as he unshrunk the broom from his pocket and landed with his feet on the handle an inch from the green-donned grass as he hooted in victory, deciding to take several victory laps around the lake to commemorate this moment into his memory.

When he entered the entrance corridor from the outside where he greeted a jovial Hagrid also in on his way for some morning tea, he could already hear the rumour mill of Hogwarts hard at work at connecting the pieces of him being absent from the Gryffindor common room while simultaneously being found sharing a bed with one Luna Lovegood. Judging by the increasing amount of stares the closer that he got to the great hall, he thought it a redundant point that before breakfast all of Hogwarts would know of what had happened just last night and judging by the astronomy tower being juggled around with the other points, it seemed that someone (he was betting one of the twins) had let it slip that he and Luna had been caught at the astronomy tower just last night.

It was an understatement to say that the great hall fell silent when he entered. All eyes were on him and a cautious Hagrid who he labelled as the only reason why he hadn't been swarmed yet with questions. At the Gryffindor table, Hermione's and Ron's glares convinced him that if he valued the feeling of wind on his skin that he would be better off sitting somewhere else today. Just then he spotted the silvery locks that he had become intimately familiar with over the past day and he made a beeline for the spot that seemed to be reserved just for him by her side, feeling like every single person in the castle was tracking his movement at that exact moment.

He plopped down next to Luna who had sent him a quaint smile on seeing him approach, reaching out a hand to graze the back of her shoulder that she shivered into, the diluted orange marks on display for all to see. Ginny stood up and stormed out of the hall, her every step the explosion of a volcano and just like that the great hall sprung to life once more and he was flooded by a sea of blue. Now she knew how he felt at the Weasleys with the whole world crashing around his shoulders. He closed his eyes, disregarding all of the people around them, his left hand focusing on another's shoulder that he found much more appreciative of his time and the attention that he lavished her in. Perhaps… perhaps being with Luna was not so bad afterall?

**_Next Up: The Goodlove_**

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**(**PROMO**) AN 1: **Recently I've helped edit the first two chapters of a new upcoming fanfic writer by the nick of shortiegirlie1016 by beta-ing her new fanfic, 'The Magic Circle: Year of the Seers.' I know it is not the best work under the sky nor is it original by any definition, but I would appreciate it if you could swing by the story to say a few kind words of motivation that are so important in shaping the future of a developing writer.

**(**UPDATES**) AN 2**: In regards to my update schedule, I will be frank with you: this is my suicidal prevention fic. Expect updates whenever I am suicidal. Depressing – yes. Good for the consumer – also yes :) So Enjoy.

**(**RANT**) AN 3**: I regularly update earlier Chapters for consistency issues so if something seems new then it is probably time to re-read a chapter or two for those sweet, sweet experience points. The **_RELATIONSHIP TAGS _**have been removed because while they are accurate in the long term, these relationships tend to develop organically so don't expect for the pairings to be handed to you on a silver platter. This is not a low-grade Level 3 Fanfic. This is Level 1. Here we tear apart reality by its seams and perform the unholy rites of canonification. R&R if you (don't) have a soul!


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